


Written in the Stars

by OuterCrasis (CentralCrasis)



Series: Drifting Together [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Force-Sensitive Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Protective Din Djarin, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CentralCrasis/pseuds/OuterCrasis
Summary: Home and family has never meant much to you - drifting around the galaxy from one planet to another - until you meet the Mandalorian and his kid. Maybe together, you'll be able to discover what it means to the both of you.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Series: Drifting Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165571
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	1. Threats and Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never expected to meet a Mandalorian, much less one like him.

The marketplace is one of your favorite places to go. It's lively and colorful, far more spirited than some others you have seen over the years. You've been on planet for nearly six months now, longer than initially planned, but the more welcoming environment convinced you to stay. Six months is considerable for you, only ever staying somewhere longer in the past when you hadn't been able to scrounge up credits fast enough.

Despite your enjoyment of the planet, you can feel restlessness sinking into your bones. Six months has been more than plenty. There are numerous other places you hadn't seen yet in the galaxy and they called out to you. You planned to leave at the end of the week, not sure where to yet, just the next rock that you could reach with the credits you had.

You wind your way through the many species and stalls that surround you, trying to move down the street without getting swept away. It should annoy you, the constant moves you have to make to avoid getting jostled, but it doesn't. You find a rhythm to it, enjoying how it keeps you on your toes.

Taking a wide step around a clump of Rodians, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Something small and green, teetering down a random alleyway. You’ve never seen anything quite like it before and you’ve been to your fair share of planets. Curious, you turn to try and get a better look. A feeling rapidly mounts in your chest. A sort of pressure that overcomes you, not painful but… pointed. Without another moment's thought or consideration, you head down the alley.

Moving closer, you discover a tiny green creature with giant ears dressed in a little brown robe. He’s adorable, giving chase to some insect half his size. Your heart breaks a little, thinking that this young one had been separated from their parents at such a busy market. You wonder if he isn’t upset yet simply because he hasn’t noticed that he’s wandered off.

Not wanting to scare him, you approach slowly as he closes in on the insect. His chase is really just a waddle, but he is surprisingly quick about it. Finally catching the bug, he promptly shoves it into his mouth and swallows. You laugh lightly, surprised by the abrupt ending. 

_ That was unexpected,  _ you think to yourself.

The child, finished with his meal, notices you and turns. He stares at you for a moment, large brown eyes bright and shining, and then begins to babble. A sense of warmth washes over you. You never really considered yourself the maternal type, but you know you won’t be leaving him behind. You need to find his parents, wherever they are, and return their child to them. In the meantime, you decide to do your best to provide him with care and protection.

The child waddles over, reaching his tiny three fingered hands out to you. You lean down and pick him up with hardly any effort. “Hello there, who are you?” you coo. 

He lets out what you think could be interpreted as a happy gurgle. Standing back up to your full height, you feel something cold and hard press into your back.

“Put him down,” says a deep, vocoded voice from behind you. 

A small flood of panic washes over you. Was this some sort of trap? Had this adorable little creature just lured you down here on purpose? You look down at him and he continues to give you the same happy look as before. Okay then. Probably not an elaborate plan to mug you but not an ideal situation overall.

You wonder if there's a quick way to get out of this when the blaster presses in harder. Okay, no getting out of this either. The child seems oblivious to the threat behind you. He’s sweet, but you really don’t want to die in an alleyway because you chose to pick him up. You let out a shaky breath and decide to listen to the voice holding the blaster. 

As you place the child back down, you try to figure out who is threatening you. You hope that it’s just the parent of the little green guy, upset to find some random woman holding his missing child. For all he knew you could have kidnapped the tiny thing. Despite the blaster telling you otherwise, you hoped he would end up being understanding. He was probably just panicked over losing his kid. You really didn’t want to die today.

The child didn't seem to have the same concerns as his father. After putting him down, he immediately began to make a whining noise, pawing at your pant leg. If you weren't so afraid of getting shot, his little face might have convinced you to pick him back up. 

An annoyed grunt slips through the vocoder behind you and the pressure of the blaster leaves your back. With a heavy sigh of relief you turn around, ready to explain the situation. 

Speechless is a good word for you as you turn around and find yourself face to face with an honest-to-maker beskar clad Mandalorian. You've heard of the Mandalorians before, stories told about them like boogeymen to scare children into good behavior. With all your travels, you've gathered that there are still some out there in the galaxy but you never expected to find yourself dealing with one personally. Not to mention the Mandalorian before you was unlike anything you ever imagined.

Whenever you heard talk of them it was always stories of their gruff demeanors and beat up, painted, durable armor. This one had the demeanor down, but his armor was nowhere close to beat up or painted. It was shining brightly in the sunlight, almost blinding you for a moment before your eyes adjusted. The gravity of your situation settled over you and your blood ran cold. Here you were, down a random alley with no one else around, being threatened by a Mandalorian. A member of a warrior race. Yeah, this is fine.

His armor is still distracting you. It’s all a bit unreal, face to face with a member of a group many thought all but gone. If it weren’t for the terrifying person attached to the armor, you would have thought it was one of the most beautiful sights in the galaxy. There was nothing else quite like it. For a moment you consider reaching out to touch the chestplate’s near reflective surface before quickly realizing that was a good way to lose a hand.

His helmet gives away nothing, but you swear you can see the displeased look he was surely wearing underneath. “What do you want with him?” he asks, keeping his blaster pointed at you.

You glance down at the child, still pulling on your pant leg. You find your voice and look back up at the Mandalorian. “Nothing. I just saw him all alone and thought I’d try to find who he belonged to. Apparently I didn’t have to look far.” Honesty seems like the best policy with him.

Some tension dissipates from the Mandalorian’s body and he finally lowers the blaster, reholstering it on his hip. Maybe he was anticipating a different answer, but yours seems to satisfy. He reaches down and scoops up the child, placing him in a sack strung over his shoulder. The child doesn’t fight him, but he still reaches a hand out towards you. That warm feeling towards the little creature is still lodged in your chest and you stuck your finger out towards him, playing with him for just a moment.

The Mandalorian begins to walk away, apparently done with the interaction. It annoys you, his abrupt arrival, threat, and subsequent dismissal of you. A momentary boldness overcomes you and you shout after him. “You should keep a better eye on him.”

If the kid is that valuable to him, how did he let the little guy get away in the first place?

You clearly struck a nerve though because he stops mid-stride and throws a look over his shoulder. Of course with the helmet all of his looks are the same, but you get his message loud and clear. After what seems like an eternity, he turns back and continues marching away from you. You marvel over the fact that he chose not to shoot you then and there.

You watch as the Mandalorian disappears into the bustling marketplace. When the gleam from his helmet finally disappears from view, you feel your legs go weak. Reaching out, you find a wall to stabilize yourself. That had been… terrifying. Breathing slowly to regain control of your pulse, you decide that all things considered it went well. You probably shouldn’t have made that last comment, but he also didn’t shoot you for it, so you consider it a win.

The shock fades and you press on with your day. You know you won’t be forgetting the interaction any time soon, but you can’t let it mess with you too much. You learned a long time ago that you couldn’t let near death experiences affect you too much if you wanted to keep living. You have more to do today anyway.

The rest of the day passes by without much excitement. Selling was relatively simple, most vendors in the area more than happy to take goods off people's hands. You only had little bits to sell, things you’d collected over your time here that you wouldn’t need anymore. You ended up with more credits than you expected for the junk though, having been able to convince some of the more dim-witted vendors to pay more than their worth. You treat yourself to a drink and a meal at a cantina before heading home.

Home isn’t much. It’s actually a bit pathetic if you were honest with yourself, but you didn't need a lot to be content. A little ground floor dwelling you rented out from a Gran, located down towards the seedier side of town. It’s small; a tiny entryway leading to a single room with just enough space for a small table, chair, dresser, and bed. To the right behind the entryway was the ‘fresher. Not much, but enough.

Exhaustion takes hold as you enter your home. The marketplace was delightful, but it took a lot to navigate. Not to mention your unexpected meeting with a Mandalorian and his kid. You shuffle into the ‘fresher, wanting to clean yourself up before giving into your fatigue. The shower you take is fast and you throw yourself into bed without bothering to dry your hair.

As you slip off into sleep, your mind drifts to the little green creature and his Mandalorian father. You wonder if you might ever see them again. You hope to see the little green guy, he'd been so adorable. The Mandalorian, you decide, you can take or leave.

***

The sound of blaster fire from outside startles you awake. Leading into the sketchier side of town this wasn't the first time this has happened, but it wasn't commonplace either. Adrenaline from waking abruptly courses through your veins and you go over to your single window to peek outside.

You can hardly believe your eyes. The Mandalorian is running full tilt down the street, the child bouncing in the bag on his hip. The blaster fire follows close behind him. You watch as he ducks down behind a crate, taking a moment to look at the child and ensure his safety.

The pressure you felt take you over earlier in the day returns again. You know what you need to do. Before you really register it, you head towards the door. The crate he chose for cover wasn't far from your door and if he was fast enough his assailants might not see him. You crack the door open, calling out to him while keeping your voice low. “Mando! Over here!” 

That fancy helmet had to have some sort of sonic detection tech with how quickly he turned his head towards you. You gesture to him, urging him to get a move on. He casts a sparing glance back towards the origin of the blaster fire and makes a break for it. Briefly, you marvel at how fast he’s able to move under the heavy armor.

Once he’s inside, you shut the door as fast as you can without slamming it. You turn, your back to the door and stare at him in the darkness of the entryway. Neither of you speak, both waiting to see if his assailants spotted him. The blaster fire ends. One good sign. You remain still, not wanting to tempt fate yet. Another minute slips by without another noise from outside. You take it as a good sign. Then, the pressure in your chest dissipates and you just  _ know  _ that the coast is clear.

You breathe a sigh of relief and move from your place at the door. You feel convinced that you and your unexpected visitors are safe, but you still close the blinds on your window. It would do you no good if someone looked inside to see a Mandalorian in your home. With the blinds drawn, you flick on the light and turn to the Mandalorian.

“Come on in, I guess.”

He moves cautiously, and although you can’t actually see his eyes you know he’s watching you as he sits down in your single chair. The child begins to make happy noises, fighting to get out of his bag. Mando must decide you aren’t too big of a threat because he actually lets the little guy out. He immediately wanders over to you, pulling on your pant leg once again. Suddenly nervous, you cast a glance over at Mando. He hasn’t moved his hand to his blaster so you suppose it’s a good sign. You pick the creature up and place him on the bed next to you. He seems to like his new position in the room, bouncing on the thin mattress. 

Mando doesn’t speak. Unsure of what to say to him, you busy yourself with the child. As you play with the kid, you try to figure out why you had offered them cover without so much as a moment’s hesitation. It was not the most logical choice to make. The Mandalorian himself threatened you that morning and his enemies wouldn’t hesitate to attack you either. Maybe it was just the little guy, seeing him in danger calling you to action. You can’t be sure — you just know that it felt right in the moment.

Time ticks by in silence and you continue to play with the child. He seems entirely unfazed by the ordeal that had just occurred. You wonder if situations like those are normal with the Mandalorian as a guardian. This situation certainly didn’t feel normal to you. Overwhelming felt like a better descriptor. Mando’s presence overtakes the entire room, the silence louder than words.

You sneak glances at him, not wanting to get caught staring. You find yourself wishing for any indication of what is happening beneath the helmet. Any hint to what the Mandalorian could be thinking about. For all he was giving, you figure he might as well be a beskar statue.

As you sit there, a new nagging pressure finds its way into you. It’s entirely unlike the others you felt before. This one feels heavy, urgent, and yet you can’t figure out what it means or what you should do. The silence in the room shifts as you notice the Mandalorian’s breathing become more labored. Concerned, you look up to see him holding his side, up by his ribs. You hadn’t noticed that he’d been holding it since he first came in.

“You okay, Mando?” you ask tentatively.

“No.” He moves his hand away from his side and you can see blood covering his glove.

Processing the new information, you move quickly. You rush over to the ‘fresher where you keep an emergency medpack. You hope that the injury isn’t too severe for the supplies you have. Tossing the medpack on the table beside Mando, you open it and account for everything you think you might need. 

Mando looks between you and the medical supplies and grunts. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re bleeding. Let me help,” you tell him.

He doesn’t say anything, but he moves his hand away from the wound. You expected him to be more stubborn about this but you aren’t going to complain about it. You move closer, kneeling on the floor next to him in the chair. You go to reach for him but you hesitate.

His armor has to stay on. You know that. Only a fool would try to remove any part of a Mandalorian’s armor. You hope that you can reach his injury without it getting in the way. A new doubt creeps into your mind. Can you touch him at all? Is that something that’s allowed? You realize you have no idea where Mandalorians draw the line.

Grabbing the cleansing wipes, you try to find your confidence. “Can I?” Your voice is small but sure. He doesn’t say anything. He just gives you a nod and you get to work.

The wound isn’t too bad surprisingly, the slowly leaking blood making it look worse than it is. A stray blast had managed to get between the beskar, resulting in a healthy graze along his side. You imagine with the location of the injury it probably hurt him to breathe. Maybe that was the reason for his prolonged silences tonight.

You clean it off with a cleansing wipe first, careful not to irritate the wound further. A slow trickle of blood continues to ooze from the wound and you grab some spare gauze. Applying pressure to the wound, you hope it’s enough to make the bleeding stop. Mando lets out a hiss of pain, coming out distorted through the helmet’s high pass filter.

"Sorry," you mumble.

You can feel him watching you intently as you work. It makes you nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking under that shiny bucket. It makes it difficult to gauge the amount of pain he’s in, if some touches hurt more than others. He feels tense beneath your fingers but he otherwise gives nothing else away. 

As nervous as you are though, you can’t help but get a bit distracted by him as well. You can see his unharmed skin around the wound, beautifully tanned, and you wonder how a person who wears so many layers could have a skin tone like that. He’s warm too, not feverishly so, but comfortable. Alive. A delicious contradiction to the cold armor he wore.

As the bleeding stops, you shake your head free from those errant thoughts. What were you thinking? Not only was he a kriffing  _ Mandalorian,  _ he was wounded and probably incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. Letting you help him right now is just in his best interest. Maker, you need to get control.

You make quick work of the rest of it. You clean the area again just to be sure, spray it with bacta, and then apply bandages. When you finish you stand and move away from him, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The uncomfortable nagging feeling dissipated along with it. So that had been the cause. Somehow you knew he was hurt before actually knowing. Odd, definitely something to think about more later.

“That should do it,” you say. “I’d change out the bandages here and there, but you won’t die anytime soon.” 

He still didn’t speak. This was ridiculous now, he couldn’t even say thank you? You scoff at him, irritated, and walk to the ‘fresher. His blood was all over your hands and it was starting to gross you out.

Turning on the tap, your mysterious and irksome guest occupies your thoughts. Who does he think he is? You found his kid earlier in the day, you offered him a hideout, and you dressed his wound. You didn’t have to do any of that for him, especially the last two. He can’t even muster up a measly thank you? Who knew Mandalorians had such bad manners.

You dry your hands, deciding that if he wouldn’t speak then you wouldn’t either. You can just play with the kid until Mando decides to leave. That was fine. You probably wouldn’t see him again after this anyway. You come to a stop when you reopen the door.

Gone. He was gone. In the time it took you to wash your hands, Mando had grabbed the kid and left. Seriously? What an absolute ass. It’s fine if he doesn’t like you, you think, but he could have let you say goodbye to the child. It was less of a goodbye than you’d received earlier in the day.

With nothing else to do, you turn off the lights and return to bed. You lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. Your mind doesn’t want to rest. It’s too overcome by the day's events. You don’t know what to make of any of it really. Beginning with having your life threatened by a Mandalorian and ending with you saving his. Odd, nearly overpowering feelings that pushed you in the Mandalorian’s way twice. Your thoughts continue to swirl until exhaustion takes you over, forcing you into a dreamless sleep.

***

Morning light streaks through your single window, waking you. Yesterday’s events return to you and you wonder if it had all been a dream. The shiny Mandalorian and his green kid, taking refuge in your home late at night. Patching up his wounds and him disappearing into the night without a word. You laugh at yourself. It sounds like a story you would make up to entertain a child. As the last dregs of sleep leave you though, you see the medpack and bloody gauze still on the table. Undeniable proof. It was real. He had been here last night and you had patched him up.

The rest of your day floats past you. You go around your usual business, bartering with marketplace vendors and getting a drink at a cantina. Nothing seems quite real though, as though it could all blow away with a gust of wind. The interactions you have feel forced. You try to keep your thoughts focused, sharp, but they keep wandering. As you walk through town, you keep an eye out for a flash of silver or green. It feels foolish, hoping to see either, but you can’t seem to help yourself. They had left without saying goodbye. 

Eventually, you return back to your home, wondering if you might be able to leave tonight instead of the end of the week like you originally planned. There wasn’t anything keeping you tied here, leaving at the end of a week had just seemed practical. A strong feeling had settled into you as you slept and was waiting for you when you woke up. It’s stronger than the restlessness from before, screaming at you to go, leave, and find somewhere new. That settled it. The sooner you can leave the better.

You make a simple meal and to debate your options over when there’s a knock at your door. For a moment you don’t realize the knock was real another follows. Someone is definitely at your door and you weren’t expecting company. You approach the door carefully. More than likely it was just someone looking for food or money, but after your visitor from the night before, you can’t risk it. Opening it just a crack, you are shocked to see the Mandalorian himself waiting on your doorstep. 

He doesn’t look any different than the night before. Still just as stoic, just as intimidating. The only change is his underclothes, the old ones certainly ruined. You are surprised, but happy you won’t have to fight anyone today. You open the door the rest of the way.

“What do you want?” you ask, a bit harsh. You can’t let him know you’d been hoping to see him and his kid all day. He has no reason to think it, but you have to be certain. Besides, you’re still annoyed at him for his terrible manners.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, as though he’s surprised by your greeting. You want to laugh. Had he been expecting a warm welcome? You know you are probably kinder than most, you try to be, but this is a bit absurd. He barely knows you, barely spoke to you, and here he is, expecting more kind hospitality. The sheer audacity.

“Well?” you prompt.

The Mandalorian seems to snap back to reality. “You’re good with your hands.”

That is not what you expected him to say. You have no idea what it means either. Your mind returns to the night before, touching his bare skin. Had you done something wrong by touching him? No, he gave you permission and could have easily stopped you at any point. Still though, was he upset about it? That you had seen him, any part of him? Did that somehow break his creed? You begin to feel a small pit of fear open up inside you and you hope that your life isn’t about to come to a swift end.

He speaks again. “Are you any good with mechanical work?” 

You feel a small modicum of relief. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to kill you if he’s asking about your prowess as a mechanic. “I know the basics at least. I’m a fast learner though.”

Mando fidgets a bit. If you weren’t so nervous now, it would have been funny, seeing this formidable warrior before you acting uncomfortable. “I could use some help on my ship. The kid seems to like you, so I thought I’d ask.”

Ask? Ask what? If you can come do some repairs on his ship for him? It strikes you as odd, considering the more than capable mechanics that you know are on the other side of town. Why is he asking you of all people to do his repairs? Just because of his kid?

“My ship is down that way, on the edge of town," he says pointing. "I’m taking off in thirty, no hard feelings if you don’t want to join.”

He doesn’t give you time to reply. You don’t even fully realize what he just asked of you until he’s half way down the street. The Mandalorian just asked you to crew on his ship and gave a half hour to decide. What the fuck?

Your first thought is an immediate yes and you aren’t quite sure where that answer sprung from so quickly. You tamp it down, trying to think logically before blindly following an admittedly strong gut reaction. You shut the door, feeling like your entire body is tingling. Those feelings you had yesterday all centered around Mando and his kid. You’d woke up today itching to leave. Could it all be related somehow? You dismiss the thought immediately. Now you’re the one being ridiculous. You were going to leave this week anyway, he had nothing to do with it. 

After ten minutes of pacing around your small room, you give up. Despite your efforts, you can’t fight that feeling that was telling you to go and go with him. You know it will likely be dangerous, given what you know about Mandalorians and the previous night, but that also inexplicably excites you. You feel like maybe that’s crazy and somehow you don’t care.

Mind made up, you dash around the room and to collect your things. You don’t have much, but you don’t want to forget anything. In ten minutes you have your life packed up, shoved into a duffel bag and a spare bed roll under your arm. Deciding it’s now or never, you leave your key on the table and walk out the door.

There is only one ship sitting on the outskirts of the town in the direction he had pointed. You aren’t surprised, this wasn't a good side of town and only a Mandalorian could get away with parking there without getting his ship torn apart for scrap. As you get closer, you wonder how the ship isn’t scrap already. It’s a relic, pre-empire, and honestly doesn’t look all that sound. No wonder Mando needed the hand.

You walk up the open hatch and look around for the walking suit of armor. He isn’t anywhere to be seen. You call out and receive no answer. For a moment you think you somehow wandered onto the wrong ship until you notice the child wandering over to you.

"Hi there, little guy," you greet. He makes familiar, happy gurgles in reply.

You set your things down and lift the child into your arms. You walk a little further into the ship, noting what the Mandalorian has onboard. The carbonite freezer surprises you, you don’t know how the old ship could power something like that. Seeing that it’s actually functional too, you suppose that maybe looks aren't everything with this ship. One door remains locked on the main level and you can only assume it’s Mando’s sleeping quarters. You have a healthy mind to avoid that room, as you can’t imagine your intrusion would be welcome.

Returning to the main hull, you notice a crate busted open, its contents strewn everywhere. It doesn’t look like it was opened normally, more so exploded from the inside out rather than torn open. You can’t imagine the Mandalorian could manage that with his bare hands alone. Your spine tingles at the thought and you quickly shake the thought away.

"You came."

His voice comes from behind you, back at the hatch entrance and you spin around to face him. If you are being honest, he scared the shit out of you doing that, but you refuse to let it show.

"I did. What's with the mess?" you ask, pointing to the exploded crate behind you. 

You can hear his distorted exhale as he continues up the ramp. "The kid. He threw a tantrum last night. Like I said, I think he likes you."

You are equally touched and horrified at the thought. Looking down at the tiny creature in your arms, you wonder how he could manage to do something like that to a crate. Still, the idea that he did so because of his father's disappearing act the night before was quite sweet. It seems like you weren’t the only one who didn’t appreciate the cold farewell.

Mando closes the hatch and breezes past you, walking over to a ladder you had yet to investigate and climbs up. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to follow but you do so anyway, bringing the kid with you.

You discover that the ladder led to the cockpit, a relatively cozy space with three seats. It was clear that one of the co-pilot chairs was the kid’s, a little nest of blankets set up for him on it. You place him down and take the other seat. Mando is already in the pilot’s chair, readying the ship for take off. He hadn't been joking when he said he was leaving in thirty. You're glad you made it on time.

"Where are we headed?" you ask him.

"Nevarro," he replies and launches you into the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up - this work will be smut free. The second work in this series is where things get spicy.
> 
> Also, I'm really just doing my own thing with reader's force sensitivity, so apologies in advance if that bothers you.


	2. Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Razor Crest and her members require quick study if you want to stay alive.

It has been five months since you joined the crew of the Razor Crest. Five long, tiring, and backbreaking months. It’s a good thing that you hadn’t been lying when you told Mando you were a quick study. The learning curve was sharp and hard, forcing you to learn and get things done right fast.

The Razor Crest seemed to be constantly running into issues, whether they were caused by external forces or not. Not lucky enough to have even the scraps of a manual for the ancient ship, you spent more than a few sleepless nights trial-and-erroring your way through getting it back into working order. When it was needed, Mando would join you, helping to make the work move faster. Despite his alleged need for a mechanic, he was fairly adept himself. He was also surprisingly patient with you as you learned, not as aggressive as you thought he might be with all that you’d heard of Mandalorians. 

When it isn’t the Razor Crest trying to break down, it's the ship’s owner. There are days where you feel like you are patching up Mando as much as his ship. On the positive side, your medical skills improved just as much as your mechanical ones. Blood grossed you out a little less now. You can’t blame him for his injuries either, if it isn’t his line of work putting him in danger then it's the situation with his son. Mando didn’t seem to mind the burden though, his gruff mask often slipping around the kid when he thought no one could see. It's sweet whenever you catch glimpses of it and causes you to wonder if he would ever reveal his softer side to anyone else.

The two of you get along fine, falling into steady habits around each other. Many of them fall into place due to his Creed, requiring a clear and unbreakable separation for meals and restful sleep. Mando typically locks himself into his bunk or the cockpit when he eats, placing the burden of the Creed upon himself. He felt like he needed to avoid you, not that you needed to avoid him. You don’t mind, you don’t want to break his Creed anyway, no matter how tempting the idea of knowing how he looked beneath the mask was.

Mando ate when he could make time, not on any sort of regular schedule like you tried to keep. His bunk remains locked when he sleeps too, answering your unspoken question about whether or not he sleeps in the armor. You don’t mind his need for strict privacy, but there are days when you can’t help but feel somewhat guilty for his seclusion. The guilt gnaws at you the most when you find yourself on a planet where the weather is nice and you eat outside, wondering if he would do the same if it weren’t for you.

He’s a man of few words, bordering on awkward at times. You often wonder how long he had been travelling on his own before Grogu and you joined his ship. Early on, there are times that he seems to forget someone else might be there with him. You're convinced you actually saw him jump with fright once when you startled him coming out of the refresher. Other than that, he stays relatively calm and collected.

He’s at his kindest with the kid, a clear affection built between the two of them. Sometimes you could hear him talking to Grogu, conversing as though the kid would reply to him. Mando isn’t as affectionate with you—not that you want him to be of course—but he isn’t mean either. 

After some time on the ship you realize that what you had thought was the Mandalorian being rude when you first met was just him being guarded or unsure of what to say. You see the guarded side of him in full bounty hunter mode, not letting anyone figure out what he was thinking next. It obviously keeps him ahead of everyone else, you notice. The unsure side is less common, but seems to happen whenever you help patch up his injuries. There are days where he refuses your help, but when he accepts it he grows quiet, watching you while you work. Not hearing a thank you from him didn’t bother you anymore.

The most astounding part of joining the Razor Crest’s crew was somehow not the mysterious Mandalorian though, but rather his green charge. Your answers as to how the destroyed crate came to be were answered soon after take off to Nevarro, when you watched as Grogu levitated a small metal ball towards himself. Mando wasn’t pleased that the kid had shown off his powers so soon, but you made it clear it didn’t matter to you one way or the other. You only wondered how he managed it.

Grogu required the steepest learning curve out of everything. After a month on the ship, you decided that Grogu knew how cute he was and used it to his advantage. His clear affinity for mischief and adorable faces when he got caught was proof enough. It felt as though any moment you or Mando didn’t have an eye on him he would be off and making trouble somewhere else. He listens to Mando best, having at least some semblance of respect towards his adoptive father. Otherwise, bribing the little womp rat was the most effective way to deal with him whether it was with food or the tiny metal ball he loves so much.

You can feel Mando’s hesitancy whenever he leaves Grogu with you. You aren’t sure if it comes from him not wanting to be separated from his son or if he still doesn’t trust you after four months. Overprotective was just shy of an understatement when it came to how Mando was with him. You can feel the reluctance every time Mando goes off to take care of his business, just as you can feel his obvious relief when he returns to see Grogu still there with you, safe and sound. Some days you nearly forget the little guy isn’t Mando’s biological son. Despite his apprehension, he still seems to trust you just enough to leave Grogu with you. It probably shouldn’t feel as big of an honor as it does.

Today though, you are all together, taking a trip into a bazaar on Rishi and stocking up on supplies. In recent weeks there had been a noticeable dent in the food rations and medical supplies on board. You let Mando know and he promised to stop somewhere soon for a restock. 

You are excited to be out of the ship for a while. While the Razor Crest had become a sort of home for you, it was nice to get out and really stretch your legs for once. Grogu shared your excitement, more than happy to climb into the bag Mando had been wearing the first day you met. You expect Mando to carry him, but are pleasantly surprised when he holds the little guy out to you instead.

“I can fight better without carrying him,” he offers in explanation. Good to know Mando expects a fight, you think to yourself, a little deflated at his reason for passing Grogu to you. Here you thought he might just trust you with him.

The walk to the bazaar isn’t far, maybe a fifteen minute walk. You don’t talk on the way there, but you don’t mind as it just gives you more time to take in the luscious environment around you. 

Massive trees and greenery surround you in a thousand different shades and hues. Other pops of color make themselves known randomly in the walls of viridian, looking like splashes of paint someone haphazardly threw into the tropical forest. Mountains surround you, the only thing you can see above the treetops, encompassing the valley you’re currently making your way through. They are gorgeous and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Most of your life has been stuck to dusty planets with large sand dunes offering the only real changes in elevation. They were nothing compared to these gigantic, solid crags.

The air is wetter than anything you’ve ever experienced before. Not enough to soak you through like a rainstorm, but enough to wet your skin, making it glisten ever so slightly. It feels nice, cool against the warmth of your body. You wonder if Mando can feel the moisture in the air under all of his layers. It seemed like a crime that he couldn’t experience this world the same way you were. 

You glance over at your intimidating walking partner. The silence between you is comfortable, practiced after the many months together on the Razor Crest. There's nothing that needs to be said, so nothing is. Plain and simple. Easy, really, once you got used to it. 

Mando’s pace is nonchalant, matching yours with one stride for every two you take. He looks good walking down the path, more casual than you think you’ve ever seen him. There seems to be less tension in his shoulders than normal. You weren’t sure if Mando ever actually felt at ease, but you imagine this is the closest you had ever seen him come. Apparently semi-long walks in a forest suit the Mandalorian well.

Grogu sits in his bag happily, softly bouncing on your hip as you walk. He occasionally makes noises, calling your attention to whatever caught his. Thankfully though, no escape attempts are made. Mando would be able to retrieve him easily, but not fighting the tiny troublemaker to stay in the bag in the first place made for a far more pleasurable walk.

Mando stops you when you're just outside of the bazaar. "This place is relatively safe, but there are raiders around, so remain alert," he instructs you.

You take your cloak and position it around Grogu. He's mostly shielded now, but he can still peek out from your side. You know there is a good chance of him becoming restless this way, but it's for the best. The less people staring at him the better.

You look back at Mando when you're satisfied with the cloak’s position, waiting for him to give the go ahead. You had become used to following his lead now. Mando doesn't move right away. He looks between you and the bazaar, as though he is debating something. You hope he isn't thinking of sending you back to the Crest.

Mind apparently made up, he turns to you and lifts your hood over your head. His sudden touch sends a jolt through you. You don't know why he did that and you decide not to ask. After five months of asking questions and getting no responses to some, you know this is one that would be met with silence. Hood now on, baby hidden underneath the cloak, you march forward into the bazaar. 

The bazaar is buzzing with energy. There are vendors everywhere, each one shouting deals as people pass by. It’s not as congested as the marketplace where you first met Mando and Grogu, but it’s still bustling. You can feel your spirits rise, not that they were particularly low, excited to interact with people.

The first stall you approach is run by a small, withered old man. He has bags of dried meats hanging around him, each looking just inviting as the last after the protein bars you’ve been forced to eat for the past week. You haggle with him on the price for a little bit, slowly working him down until you feel the deal you're getting is at least fair. You notice that Mando hangs back, watching from a safe distance. Not close enough that people will think you're together, but close enough that he can keep a clear eye on you and the kid. It’s probably for the best, his shiny armor drawing the eyes of everyone around him.

After stocking up your meat supply, you head towards a stand selling a variety of fruits. You know you can’t buy many, having no idea about their shelf life, but you can get enough to make yourself, Grogu, and hopefully even Mando happy for a while. You don’t actually know if Mando likes fruit, but at the same time you don’t see why he wouldn’t. At the very least, it’s food and he’s practical. You know it won’t go to waste.

From there, you wander around the market. You don’t have anything particular in mind but you stop wherever a vendor looks kindest and the goods seem useful. You pick up some more odds and ends, restocking the medical supplies and spare parts for the Crest. For a moment, you almost consider going over to a jewelry vendor, just to see what they have, when you realize you’ve become carried away. You have no need for jewelry and you’re basically spending Mando’s credits right now, not your own.

Speaking of the metal head, you do a quick scan to locate him. He’s off to your left, not looking at you, helmet focused on something else in the crowd. You give yourself a moment to watch him instead of the reverse for once. Besides, you think, if anyone notices you staring, they’ll just assume you’re scared of the big, bad Mandalorian. 

He’s leaning against a wall, legs slightly crossed at the ankles and a hand slung on his belt. He looks good there, almost as though he belongs. The sun isn’t terribly bright on this planet, but combined with the moisture that’s gathered on his armor, he gleams. It’s a breathtaking sight. With five months between you now, you aren't afraid of him anymore. Not to say that he wasn’t perfectly capable of terrifying you still, but not while he simply stands there. 

Any average passerby might say that he looks relaxed. You know better though and you can tell he’s on alert. Busy scanning and searching the crowd for any threats. He’s a man on a mission, ensuring that the area is safe for his son and by extension, yourself. His dedication is admirable. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone with such a drive or focus before. It’s so total and absolute, you wonder what it might be like to have that focus on only you.

Grogu’s noises coming from the bag break you from your trance. You blink rapidly, shaking yourself back into reality. Grogu’s noises grow louder. Clearly, something caught his eye from his vantage point. Trying to be as covert as possible, you lean down to whisper. 

“What is it buddy?” you ask.

You look in the direction he’s pointing. Your eye catches on something bright just a few stalls down. Feeling confident it’s what he’s making a fuss over, you head towards the booth. It’s full of baked goods, with a young female Twi’lek behind the counter. Trying to be sensible while also indulging the kid, you first buy some bread, which she ensures has a long lasting shelf life. You don’t bother to ask what’s inside the bread to make it last for so long, not wanting to know the answer. Then, you turn to the sweets laid out before you and Grogu.

Grogu pushes himself out from behind your cloak, trying desperately to reach some bright orange cookies that are on the counter in front of him. Before he can start to levitate them to himself, which you’re sure is his next move, you grab them and hand them to him. The Twi’lek is clearly surprised to see a little creature like Grogu on your hip, but you figure it’s better she be surprised by his existence than his magic powers. Grogu seems content now, slowly munching on his brightly colored treat. 

Seeing a pastry that looked an awful lot like one you used to enjoy on your homeworld, you select it for yourself. You look down at Grogu and smile. “What do you think, little guy? Should we get your dad something too?”

Grogu babbles, pointing at a roll of bright pink cookies next to the orange ones he craved so badly. It’s an adorable choice, wanting Mando to have a snack that’s just like his. You grab the cookies and hand them to Grogu. Normally, you don’t trust him around extra food, but he seems enthusiastic about giving them to Mando. It makes your heart feel full. You hand the Twi’lek the credits for the food and give her a warm smile. 

Deciding that your shopping is done for the day, you look back towards where you saw Mando last. He’s no longer there. A voice comes from behind you.

“Looking for me?”

You jump, quickly turning around to face Mando. You give the beskar on his chest a slap, knowing it will do nothing to him, but feeling good to do it just the same. 

“That’s not funny!” you half-yell at him. Yes, he was still capable of giving you a good scare. You are almost certain you can see him smiling underneath the helmet. 

He tips his head in the direction of a nearby cantina. “Come on.”

You fix your cloak, moving it back over the child and follow after him. He finds a booth stowed away in a dark corner easily. Part of you wonders if he personally cleared it out beforehand just to make sure it was empty. A waitress comes over and takes an order for you and Grogu, Mando of course opting out of the meal. 

You move Grogu out of the bag, placing him between you and Mando on the booth. His tiny hands are still clutching the cookies that you both purchased for Mando. Mando is focused on something else in the cantina, Grogu’s attempts at gaining his attention failing. You tap the bounty hunter on the shoulder for him. 

“He bought you something today,” you say, looking down at Grogu. He’s adorable sitting there, stretching the fuschia treat out towards Mando. Mando takes them from him carefully and pats his head. 

“Thanks Ad'ika,” he says. Grogu chirps with the praise, his ears giving a happy flutter.

Mando looks up at you and gives the package a small shake. You can tell the question he’s asking.

You shrug. “The kid picked them out, not me. He was really excited about it.”

Your food comes soon after and you eat without incident. Every so often you ask Mando questions, about people in the bar or about the planet. He gives you answers when he has them, otherwise staying silent or shrugging. It should be pleasant, but the longer you sit there, the worse you feel. 

You aren’t sure why, but a feeling creeps into your chest that you can’t seem to shake. It's heavy, oppressive, and you can feel it seeping into your bones. It's not weighing you down like it should though, it's winding you up. You feel like a rubber band ready to snap.

As Grogu slurps down the last of his meal, you spot the Twi'lek who sold you the bread and pastries earlier in the day across the bar. That’s it. You reach into your bag, slam down a handful of credits onto the table, and then pick up Grogu and thrust him into his bag.

Halfway through stowing Grogu away Mando shouts at your name in alarm. "What the hell?"

You pause for only a moment. "We need to go. Now."

The urgency in your voice spurs him into action. Both of you quickly push out from the booth. Mando is close behind you and you know his helmet will pick up your voice.

"Purple Twi'lek. Across the bar," you mutter.

"Got it." 

You can tell that Mando wants to know how you know. He's far more advanced than you at assessing threats and he had no clue about the Twi'lek. She doesn't seem threatening, just watching you as you make your way to the door. She can hardly be blamed for that, there are plenty of other eyes in the cantina tracking the mysterious Mandalorian and his companion. If it ends up being nothing, then it's no harm no foul. He learned the value of better safe than sorry a long time ago.

Mando pushes in front of you before you get outside. It throws you off for a second before you realize he's using himself as a shield in case something is waiting outside the door. He is the one covered in beskar after all.

Nothing happens when you step out of the cantina. The street is calm, dying down in the fading light of day. You can still feel it though. The tightness in your chest. Whatever this is, it isn't over yet and you know it.

Mando doesn't question your continued alarm. Instead he starts walking. "Come on. We need to get back anyway,” he tells you.

At least he doesn't think you're crazy yet.

You remain on high alert, assessing every dark corner and hiding place an enemy could be lurking in or behind. You don't know what's coming, but you know it isn't going to be good. Even Grogu seems to sense that there is something wrong, tucking himself into his bag as deep as possible. 

You make it out of the city, back onto the forest valley path you had enjoyed so much earlier. Now the dense foliage felt like a threat, one that could be concealing any numbers of horrors. You wish you had something to enhance your vision. The sun is below the treeline, making the path darker than you would like.

Mando yells your name as a sound crashes from high above and in a second you're being thrown backwards onto the hard ground. Your reactions are quick, pulling the kid in towards your chest before you land, protecting him from the brunt of the impact. You feel all of the air leave your lungs when you hit, forcing you to take a moment before getting back up.

Lifting your head, you can see Mando nearby fighting off a handful of attackers. The raiders he mentioned that morning, you assume. You scramble to your feet, holding the child close. There are only two attackers focused on you, some large alien you can't identify and the Twi'lek. A bittersweet confirmation of your fear.

Panicking and in need of more time to come up with a plan, you run headlong into the forest. You took the Twi'lek and her friend by surprise with that at least, it's almost a full thirty seconds before you can hear them come crashing in after you.

Your mind is spinning now. You don't know what to do. You aren't a strong fighter and you have the kid. His safety is of the utmost importance, so you need to figure out a plan to protect him. Off to your left you see a grouping of fallen trees. You make up your mind fast.

You reach the trees and shove Grogu in between them, bag and all. The bag is an old worn brown that blends in with the bark of the tree nicely. Your only hope is that he stays there until you or Mando can retrieve him. From there, you run back to a clearing nearby, hoping to keep them away from the child. You can hear them getting closer and you prepare yourself for a fight.

The Twi'lek approaches first, throwing a couple punches that you narrowly avoid. The larger one hangs back, apparently content with watching the girl fight unfold before him. It pisses you off. Both had come after you, yet you weren't a big enough threat for both to engage. You know you can’t take them both on at once anyway but still, it's insulting.

Anger flooding over your previous panic, you begin to return punches of your own. Only one manages to hit, right in the Twi'lek's ribs. She wheezes for a moment before coming back at you. Her fighting is wild, forcing you to block more than you'd like. The punches she throws are unmeasured, looking to hit anywhere she can. You try for more focused hits, aiming for where it hurts. Her blocks aren't as successful as yours. You trade a few more blows before you finally get a lucky break. 

The undergrowth of the forest is dense, tree roots and brush covering the uneven ground. The Twi'lek is far more focused on you than where her feet are landing. She lunges at you, trying for an exaggerated lunge at your side, when a sickening crack fills the air. She crumples to the ground, screaming in pain, as you realize what happened. Her foot had gotten caught in a tree root that was sticking up from the ground and her aggressive movement snapped her ankle.

You aren't given long to rejoice, her partner now deciding it is time to join the fight. He's a far better fighter than the Twi'lek. His punches are hard and brutal, your attempts at blocking doing almost nothing against his strength. Changing tactics, you do your best to just avoid his hits rather than focus on defending yourself against them. Where you can you fight back, but it’s feeble. You aren't a match for him.

It doesn't take long for him to overpower you, your body growing tired against his full assault. Missing a block, his punch lands squarely on the right side of your ribcage. An intense pain overcomes you, making your legs go weak and nearly causing you to fall to the ground. By some miracle you manage to remain standing, but it hardly matters. Twice your size, the brute grabs you and slams you against a nearby tree. 

You feel a sudden pain in your ribs and your vision goes blurry. Completely disoriented now, you're an incredibly easy target, barely able to make attempts to shield yourself from his continued blows. Your injuries start to overtake you and you can feel your consciousness slipping when blaster fire rings out through the trees and the onslaught ends.

You don't move. You know you should probably think that you're dead, but the oppressive weight dissipates from your chest and you know you're okay. The threat is gone.

Your head is fuzzy and it's increasingly difficult to keep any one thought in your mind for long. Your eyes begin to drift closed when Mando suddenly appears above you. His voice doesn't make sense until he taps your face a couple times, calling your name.

"Come on, stay with me. Stay awake."

"Mando?" His name comes out like a question when you say it.

"K'oyacyi! Stay with me! Where's the kid?" You didn't understand the first word he said, but you think you might have heard him wrong. He continues to shout at you.

"Come on, mesh'la! Where is the kid?"

The world shifts back into focus slightly. Your body feels battered, but you manage to point in the direction where you stashed Grogu. "Hid him. In the trees."

You expect Mando to leave you and go after his son. He's desperate to find Grogu and you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Moving sounds too difficult right now anyway. He surprises you though by gently lifting you into his arms and marching in the direction you pointed.

His arms are comfortable around you, the hard beskar not bothering you like it should. You tuck your head in the soft spot between Mando's pauldron and neck. He holds you a bit tighter. He won't stop talking to you as you walk, encouraging you to stay awake and stay with him. There are more words you don't understand mixed in too, but you aren't sure what any of them mean or if you're even hearing him correctly.

You point at the mess of fallen trees when you see them. Grogu is still there, waiting outside of his little travel bag. Mando sighs with relief and gently places you down against a tree. He moves quickly, getting Grogu positioned in the bag and returning to you. 

"I need you to hold onto me tight, okay?"

Your mind has gone a bit fuzzy again and you don't reply right away. You can feel your eyes half-open as you try to look up at him. The agony you feel is overwhelming. The whole of your body is singing for you to just fall asleep, to run from the pain. Mando taps your face again.

"Stay awake. Answer me, sweet girl, can you hold on tight?"

You can't find words, but you shake your head yes. It might be difficult, but you can do that for Mando, you think. He's doing so much for you, it's the least you can do in return. The head shake is enough for Mando. He lifts you to your feet, arm tight around your waist. You hold onto him as tight as you can and then Mando is launching into the air.

You barely even register the jetpack flight back to the Razor Crest. It takes all of your strength to focus on holding tight, dulling all your other senses so that even the cold air whipping against your skin feels like a gentle breeze. Mando lands so gently you hardly even realize that you're no longer flying.

You don't really remember Mando putting you down on his bed, or when he left you to get Grogu tucked away and the Razor Crest into the air. It all seems like a dream. It could have been 5 minutes or 5 hours or maybe not real at all. The only thing keeping you from falling unconscious are Mando's words playing on a loop in your mind.

_ Stay awake, sweet girl. Stay with me. Don't fall asleep, I need you awake. _

They had all sounded so nice coming from him. Especially those two.  _ Sweet girl.  _ He's never called you that before but you like the way they sounded. He said them with such care, you wonder if that's what it feels like to have even a fraction of Mando’s tenderness focused onto you. If that's only a small portion, you can't imagine what all of it would be like. 

Then, he's back. He's back and he's talking to you but his words all sound muffled as though there's cotton stuffed in your ears. You feel a sharp poke in your arm and the fog in your mind clears a bit. You still feel thoroughly pummeled, but you’re able to focus again.

"Are you with me?" Mando's voice is loud and clear. In his hand is a needle and you realize what happened. He gave you a bacta shot.

You let out a low grown and look up at his helmet. "Yeah, I'm with you." The words come out quieter than you expect. 

"Good. Now stay with me," he says forcefully.

You briefly wonder how many times he's told you that tonight before you respond. "Okay."

He looks you over methodically, gently poking and prodding your body. You know you should feel embarrassed, having his hands all over you, but it feels too nice. His gloves are soft, the leather well-worn from years of wear. He's gentle, stopping whenever you let out a hiss of pain and asking if you're okay.

His hands still and he pulls away. "I think some of your ribs are bruised, those are going to hurt."

You let out a small huff of air. You don't think now is the time to mention that just over a month ago he bruised his ribs and told you they didn't hurt at all.

Mando ignores your huff and continues. "Not many major cuts, but you're going to bruise. And then the concussion."

Ah, a concussion. That's why you couldn't think straight and why sleep had seemed so welcoming. It made sense now. The tree and alien had done some serious damage together.

"Could be worse," you say.

"Could be better," he replies.

He grabs the medpack and starts bandaging you up. As he goes on, you can feel the fog encroaching on your mind again. The bacta shot dosage he had given you wasn't enough to last for long.

Mando notices you fading and tries to keep you focused. Your mind keeps floating away though, going back to everything that happened. Your eyes flutter closed and you give a groan to let Mando know you're still awake.

You feel like an idiot. Sure, your inexplicable feeling had warned you of the danger, but what good did it really do you? You were still lying here, incapacitated, and wasting Mando's time with looking after you. You had barely had time to protect Grogu, stashing him away a mere minute before danger arrived. There was only one possible positive out of all of this and it was showing Mando that you were willing to get your ass kicked to save his kid. Wonderful.

You give a pitiful laugh, keeping your eyes closed. “At least you know you can trust me with the kid now, huh?”

Mando’s hands freeze on you. You’re confused, but you don’t have the energy to ask why he's stopped. “What?” His voice is hushed, barely making it through his helmet’s filter.

You take a moment to collect yourself, trying to keep your focus. “I know you don’t fully trust me with him. You’re always so hesitant to leave him when you go on a hunt,” you pause, losing focus again. Mando doesn’t say anything while you find the rest of your words. “It’s okay. At least you know now I’ll protect him. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“You think I don’t trust you?” He sounds… hurt? Why? You told him it’s okay. You understand.

“Yeah, s’okay. I get it, you’re scared I might let him get hurt.” Your head is pounding now. It takes everything in you to not let yourself drift off. You can’t though. Mando told you to stay with him. You have to stay strong right now.

Mando stays quiet and returns to patching you up. You can tell it’s one of his unsure silences. You’re not entirely sure how you can tell that even in your current state. It just feels different. His unsure silence isn’t big and oppressive like when he’s being guarded. It’s smaller somehow, more fragile. You can barely focus on remaining conscious, much less construct any more sentences, so the silence continues until he can find his words.

He finishes bandaging you up and does something entirely unexpected. Mando begins to run his hands through your hair. You don’t even think to tense at the sudden touch or try and ask what he’s doing. It feels good and it gives you something to focus on other than the ache that’s engulfing your body. You wish you had the energy to lean into it.

“I- I trust you with the kid,” he forces out. “I trust you with a lot, my kid, my ship, kriff-  _ me.  _ I don’t even know why I do, it’s not really rational. I just  _ do. _ ” The words are tumbling out of him now, as though the first sentence opened his floodgates. 

“I’m not just worried about him while I’m gone. I worry about you too and I know- I  _ know  _ you’re capable of taking care of yourself but I can’t help it. I’m so relieved everytime I come back and I see both of you here, on the Crest, waiting for me.”

You feel like all the air has been stolen from your lungs and this time it’s not from your injuries. He really thinks that? He not only trusts you, but worries about you just as much as he worries about his son? That’s why he always looks so reluctant to leave? You feel a few traitorous tears fall from your eyes. Here you had been, thinking all this time that all of that concern was only for the little one, when it had been for you too.

You feel his hand move from your hair to wipe away the tears. “Please don’t cry, sweet girl," he says gently. Feeling more focused than you have in the past hour, you manage to open your eyes.

“You trust me, Mando?” you ask, hardly believing his words.

You can see his helmet pointed directly at your face. If the helmet was off, you guess that he’d be looking you directly into your eyes. Your name leaves his mouth like a sigh.

“I do,” he pauses, another unsure silence. He passes his hand through your hair again and whispers your name again, barely audible.

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

If you had the energy, you would have sat bolt upright, eyes wild, and stared at him in disbelief. You might have shouted, exclaimed something at the surprise of him suddenly telling you his name. You don’t have the energy for even a quarter of that though. You’re using almost all of it to keep your eyes open at this point. Instead, you do the only thing you feel capable of. Repeating it. 

“Din Djarin.” 

You like the way it feels in your mouth. It feels right. You never could have guessed his name but knowing it now, you don’t know how you could have guessed it was anything else. Din Djarin. You smile to yourself. You wish you could find the strength to reach out to him, grab hold of his hand, something. 

“I trust you too, Din Djarin.”

It feels like enough. You hope he’s smiling, hearing you say his name. You close your eyes again, feeling the darkness creeping back in. You finally succumb, slipping into unconsciousness, holding onto his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> K'oyacyi! = Can mean: *Hang in there* or *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*  
> Mesh'la = beautiful


	3. Shared Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A well needed break and unexpected revelations.

The planet you landed on is pleasant. Sparsely populated, but flush with vegetation. As you wait for Mando to return to the ship, you stare out at the lush field in front of you and the tall trees that surround it. You can’t wait to disembark, but after a few too many close calls recently Mando had insisted on scouting the area before you or the child left the ship. Unsure of how long it would take him, you decide to nestle into the pilot chair in the cockpit — far more comfortable than a makeshift chair on boxes in the hull. Grogu sits in your lap, playing with the little metal ball from the gear shaft. 

You had half begged for, half demanded this brief pause in bounty hunting. 

“...Come on Mando, a small break won’t hurt anything.” You lean against the console in the cockpit, looking down at Din in the pilot’s chair. He’s refusing to look back at you. In fact, he had been steadily ignoring you since you brought up the idea five minutes ago.

“Who’s paying for fuel?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. You know there is plenty of fuel still left in the Crest’s tanks. He’s being difficult on purpose. You give his chair a small kick out of annoyance. The helmet finally turns and you know you have his full attention now.

Your words are sharp and to the point. You refuse to back down from thisーyou and Grogu deserve some time outside of the ship and Mando could use time to rest for once. “Cut it out. There’s plenty of fuel, four bodies in carbonite that will pay you when we get to Nevarro, and I know you have a week before Karga expects you back. We don’t even need to use the full week. Just a couple days, so the kid and I can stretch our legs and we can not worry about dying for two seconds.” 

He doesn’t say anything, staring at you, the helmet giving away nothing. 

“Please, Din,” you plead, your voice softening.

He shakes his head but says, “Fine. Two days. That’s it.”

Your face lights up at his reluctant agreement. He might not be excited about the break but nothing sounds better to you. The last one was nearly three months ago and that had been brief, a couple days’ pause to make sure your concussion from the fight on Rishi wasn’t anything more serious. You consider hugging him before quickly deciding against it. Mando probably hates hugs. Instead, you settle for a simple but enthusiastic thanks.

A day later he lands the Razor Crest on this planet, the one you are currently waiting on him to finish inspecting. Almost a full half hour elapses before you see a shiny speck making its way out of the treeline and towards the ship. You stand up and point towards the approaching Mandalorian.

“Look, your dad is back. Let’s go greet him and get off this stupid ship.”

Grogu’s ears perk up at hearing of Din’s return. You take the ball from him, leaving it on the console, and go down to the hull. The main hatch is closed, Mando too paranoid to leave it open in case there was someone shady lurking around. You think it’s a bit overkill but are willing to go along with it if it means you get two days of relaxation in return.

You don’t have to wait long before the hatch is opening before you. Mando looks at you and gestures out towards the planet. Apparently he’s content with the lack of threats surrounding you at the moment. Grogu chirps and you set him down, walking out with him into the small field the ship is parked on.

The weather reminds you of your homeplanet, the warm glow of a nearby sun heating up the world around you. It isn't at all the fierce heat of the desert planets you seem to so often find yourself on and you’re thankful for it. You’ve learned to deal with that kind of oppressive heat but you aren't sure you'll ever become truly accustomed to it. This on the other hand, is the kind of warmth you could get used to and if the excitement of the child is anything to go off of, he’s thrilled at the change in environment too. He runs around your legs, seemingly happy to just toddle around in the soft grass. 

His father on the other hand is just as stoic as ever. Mando hasn’t gone back into the ship, but he’s standing there, arms folded, watching you and Grogu as you take in the comfortable weather. He doesn’t seem angry, just not altogether happy either. It bothers you, but you decide to ignore him. He’s just being sour that you made him take a break.

You look down at Grogu and give him a big smile. “Okay little guy, what’s the plan?”

The rest of your morning is spent running around with the little one, enjoying your time in the open air with no worries. You aren’t sure that you’ve ever seen Grogu this uninhibited before. Nearly seven months and he was constantly put into a bag or pram, not allowed to run around for fear of his safety. You become a bit more sympathetic towards the trouble he likes to cause. You would too if you had no other outlet. At least you can distract yourself with ship maintenance and have some agency when you visit markets to restock supplies. Realizing how limited he normally is, you let Grogu take the lead.

He enjoys playing at the treeline nearby the ship. He finds a little stick and starts tapping it everywhere he can, eventually finding some stones he likes the sound of. When the stick becomes too boring, he starts trying to climb trees, only successful in reaching the tops of the trees’ roots. An idea pops into your head.

You pick him up, still reluctant to leave him behind despite the planet’s apparent safety. Grogu makes a disgruntled noise at this, unhappy to have his play disturbed. 

“We’ll come right back, just trust me, okay?” you promise him. He makes a little noise in what you assume is agreement and you run back to the ship. 

Mando is sitting outside, a few crates dragged out of the ship to create a makeshift workbench for himself. He’s cleaning a couple blasters out of the armory, some of the smaller models in his arsenal. Go figure relaxation means cleaning guns to him. You rush past him and into the ship. It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for.

You're running back out when Mando calls over to you. "Sorry, can't talk! Important things to do!" you yell back. You are not about to get stuck cleaning guns with him when you have a tree to climb.

You run back to the treeline and put Grogu down. You talk to him as you put your cloak on.

"You wanted to climb the tree, right? I'll do the work for you. I'm going to put you in the hood here and you can hang on. We can go as high as we want, little buddy.” Grogu seems to understand and reaches his hands up to you. 

You tuck him into your hood and make sure he’s secure. “Hold on tight. If you come close to falling just grab my hair, okay?” you tell him.

Grogu gives you a little nod in acknowledgment. You take it as good a sign as any and survey the tree. You haven’t done something like this since you were a child, but it couldn’t be that hard. If anything, it should be easier now that you have better coordination and longer appendages. You grab onto one of the lowest limbs and pull yourself up. From there, it’s all about finding the next best limb to grab onto and the best place to put your feet. 

You pause halfway up the tree and look out. You’re fairly high up now, a fall from this height would certainly fracture, if not break a bone. Grogu is still secure in the hood, you can feel him squirming against your shoulders. 

“Want to keep going?” you ask.

Grogu chirps and you take it as a yes. You keep climbing until the branches start to get too small. If it was just you, you might have pushed it a little more, but you have the kid to think about. You sit down on the branch, holding on tight to it beneath you. You kick your legs a bit, enjoying having them dangle off the sides of the limb. Grogu is making happy sounds behind you and you know he’s enjoying this too.

You can see far further than you did from the Razor Crest’s cockpit. The field wasn’t quite as big as you previously thought and the trees started to dip down towards the left. The change in elevation was invisible to you before. The sun is high in the sky and you guess it’s somewhere around midday. You’re not sure how this planet compares to Galactic Standard Time, but it seems like a normal pace for the sun to move.

Feeling comfortable in your new perch, you move back towards the trunk of the tree. Carefully, you have Grogu get out of the hood and climb into your lap. You keep your hold on him, gripping the tree with your thighs and using the trunk as back support. It’s a fairly comfortable position all things considered. You might even find it a good place for a nap without Grogu. You stay up there for a while, maybe an hour or two by your calculation with the sun, until you can hear Mando yelling for you below.

You pick up Grogu and put him back in the hood. “Let’s go see what your dad wants,” you tell him. Using Mando as a way to get Grogu to do things is an effective tactic, and you really don’t want him fighting to stay in the tree.

The descent is easy. There are plenty of branches that make for good footholds. As you near the bottom you get a terrible idea, but figuring there’s little risk except for an angry Mandalorian, it's worth it. You’ve gotten used to dealing with him while he’s angry and he should get over this quickly anyway you figure.

Close enough to the bottom that the kid won’t get hurt in case you mess up, you hold on tight to the branch above you and purposely misstep, causing your feet to fly out from underneath. You yell in fake surprise and you can feel Grogu shift in the hood behind you. He doesn’t grab your hair though, so you know he’s fine. Din yells from beneath you and you look down to see him moving below you, as though to catch you if you fall. 

It's really a sight to behold, a Mandalorian warrior with his arms outstretched to catch a girl and a baby out of a tree. It makes you laugh and you swing your feet to the missed branch, making it out of the tree in two more simple movements. When you land, you throw out your arms as if to say “ta-da”.

One look at Din tells you he’s not happy. You expected it though, so it doesn’t bother you. “What the hell was that?” he asks.

“Just wanted to see what you would do. You should have seen the look on your face, it was priceless.” He cocks his head at you. “Figure of speech, jeez. Learn to take a joke, Mando.” You pat his pauldron a couple times as you walk past, heading towards the Razor Crest.

You know you’re pushing your luck now, but you can’t help it. It’s not often you can get a rise out of him without actual danger being involved. Din must be in a forgiving mood because he just sighs and follows you. It’s a surprising reaction, but you’ll take it. It’s rare he lets you off easy.

Back at the Crest, you take Grogu out of your cloak and spread it out on the field. You lay back on it, folding your hands under your head and closing your eyes. Right as you get comfortable, there’s a gentle kick to your side. You crack your eye open to see Din standing above you. He looks good there and if it weren’t for all the time spent with him, you might be scared. You tilt your head towards him, squinting from the light reflecting off of the armor.

“What?”

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Just get up.”

You heave a heavy sigh and stand, an argument seems futile. It appears that you were wrong about Mando’s forgiving mood. He probably found some repairs for you to do on the Crest or something. So much for relaxation.  Instead of leading you to the ship like you expect, he takes you over to a stack of crates that he positioned into a line facing the trees. You wonder if he’s going to force you to help him with blaster maintenance.

“Here,” Mando says, holding a blaster out to you. You recognize it as one of the ones he was cleaning when you went to go climb the tree. You take it from him and look it over. It’s a smaller model, but certainly bigger than the low charge Stingbeams you’ve used once or twice in the past.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but you ran off. Too busy climbing trees like some monkey-lizard. I set up a target range. We’re going to see how well you handle a blaster,” he tells you. 

You look up from the blaster to him in surprise. You asked him weeks ago about carrying one. His response then was just a rough  _ no  _ and you assumed the matter was closed. You certainly weren’t expecting anything like this. Granted this still wasn’t relaxation, but at least Din had something other than hunting in mind while he cleaned the blasters earlier. 

You flush at the idea that he had  _ you  _ in mind while setting all of this up instead. It was weeks ago when you mentioned this and he apparently remembered. Din spent the better part of his morning cleaning blasters and creating a make-shift range for you to practice on. This was… too much, wasn’t it? Surely he has better things to do than humor you. Unless, of course, this wasn’t for you at all. He probably just wants to see if he can trust you with a blaster when he leaves you and Grogu in the Crest while he’s hunting. That’s probably it. Classic Mando, always focused on his job and his kid.

“If I think you’re good enough, I’ll let you carry the one you’re holding. But in emergencies only.” He places strong emphasis on the last sentence. You knew it, this was practical, not some altruistic act towards you. That’s fine, but then why does it hurt?

You throw on a smile. “Okay then. Let’s get started.”

Mando walks you through the basics before he lets you shoot. You already know some things, like trigger discipline and not pointing a blaster at anyone unless you want to shoot them. You’ve never shot anything larger than a hold-out blaster, so the one you have now is slightly more complex. He’s patient with you while you learn, never raising his voice or making fun of you when you get something wrong. Once you can name all the parts on the blaster and run through the basics without mistake, Din lets you shoot.

There’s scrap metal strung up in the trees at different distances and heights. The crates are there for cover in case of stray fire, but Din assures you it’s not likely. The metal isn’t very strong and a direct hit will presumably break through the thin sheets. Any misses will get lost in the trees.

The blaster feels comfortable in your hand and you position yourself behind the crates. You take your stance and Din makes small but gentle corrections to your form. You decide to shoot at two of the metal sheets straight ahead, looking to get a feel for the weapon before you start trying for harder targets. Taking a deep breath, you move your finger to the trigger and shoot. Two out of your five shots land.

“Well, you’re better than a stormtrooper,” Din says looking down range.

“Thanks.”

“Not exactly a compliment.” You sour at his snub. Raising the blaster, you retake position and fire. Two out of five. Again.

You groan in frustration and set the blaster down on the crates. “Dank farrik,” you curse.

“Hey, you’re doing great. I’ve seen people with way more experience than you who can’t hit the broad side of a bantha.”

You cast him a sidelong glance. “You mean that?” you ask.

“Absolutely. Pick up the blaster.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Din sounds... excited. You pick the blaster back up and resettle yourself.

Din’s voice is low beside you. “Just aim at the one for now. Try to make every shot hit.” 

You take an extra second to slow your breathing before shooting. A sense of calm washes over you. You can feel it throughout your body, relieving your tension, sharpening your focus. You wait until the shot feels just right, feeling it deep in your gut, and you open fire. Another five rounds launch at the plate on the left side. Four out of five hit.

You barely remember to set down the blaster before turning to Din in excitement. "Did you see that?" you exclaim.

"You're a natural, sweet girl." You can feel the authenticity of the praise and it makes your face flush. You hope that there's some sort of filter on his visor that prevents him from seeing the redness of your cheeks.

In an effort to break the tension you feel, you ask, "Does this mean I get to carry a blaster now?"

Din's body language stiffens a bit. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Do it again and once you can hit it all five times go for multiple targets. Then we'll talk about you keeping the blaster."

You thought his answer might be something like that. It was never going to be easy with him. Not that it really bothered you. Not taking the easy way was what kept him and you alive for so long. That was the way.

Target practice continues until the sun goes down. You thought Din would get bored at some point and leave you to it, but he stays the entire time. He offers pointers, adjusts your form when it isn't perfect, and at some point starts calling out targets for you to aim at next. When you manage to hit ten targets in a row he lets out an honest-to-maker laugh. It’s rich and full and you decide in that moment that it is the most beautiful sound in the galaxy. You only wish you could have heard it without the helmet's distortion.

The more you shoot, the easier it is to find that calm feeling. You have to focus on finding it less and less until it slowly works its way into the motions of your form. Breathe in, breathe out, focus, aim, calm feeling, and fire. By the time you finish for the day it starts to feel like clockwork. Rusty, imperfect clockwork, but clockwork all the same.

When it officially becomes too dark to shoot you put the blaster down and look over at Din. "So? What do you think?" you ask him.

"About what?" he replies.

You roll your eyes. You know he can see it through his visor. "The blaster. Do I get to keep it?"

Din chuckles. "Yeah, sweet girl, I think you earned it." 

You consider hugging him before thinking better of it. What was going on with you? That was the second time in a week you felt like hugging him. You needed to get that urge under control before it became a problem. Instead you settle for a smile.

"I'm going to need a holster," you tell him, walking back to the ship together.

"I'm sure we'll find you one," he says.

Back in the Crest you scrounge up some food, realizing you're starving after the day's events. You haven't eaten anything since earlier that morning. Din puts the kid to bed, Grogu having spent the rest of his day running around the field and thoroughly exhausting himself for once. You stare out into the dark field and get an idea.

"Hey, Din?" you call out.

"What?" he responds.

"How cold does this planet get at night?"

"Somewhere around 10 degrees, why?" Din sounds suspicious of your question.

You don't answer him. You finish your meal, go over to your makeshift bed on the floor of the Crest and grab two blankets, one of them the largest you have. From there, you locate a flashlight and head out of the ship towards the trees. 

You choose a spot in the treeline closest to the Crest. Once you find the right branches above, you climb a tree for the second time that day. You tie the corners of the blanket tight, giving a few hard tugs before you're sure the knots won't slip. Trusting your work, you climb into the makeshift hammock and lay down, tucking the other blanket around yourself. This was far better than the hard, cold floor of the Razor Crest.

You fall asleep quickly, suspended in the trees. It's a sound sleep, so heavy that you aren't even disturbed when Din comes out to check on you in the middle of the night. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you construct your temporary bed in the trees, but he can't sleep until he knows for certain that you're okay.

***

Sunlight breaking through the trees wakes you the next morning. Leaves soften the harshness of the rays, dulling the light before it reaches you. Sleep leaves you easily and you feel more refreshed than you have in weeks. It’s an easy jump from your hammock to the forest floor. 

Back at the Razor Crest, you grab some food for breakfast and find that Grogu has already woken up too. The door to Din’s quarters are closed. You decide to not disturb him, not sure the last time you saw him have a full night’s rest, and take Grogu outside with you. Your cloak is still where you left it from the day before and you sit down on it. The morning air has a slight chill, the sun not yet fully heating up the planet’s surface. It’s refreshing though and feels like a strong start to the day.

After finishing your meal, Grogu pulls you to the trees again. It seems that he wants a repeat of yesterday’s fun. It’s adorable, the eager way that he leads you around. Instead of entertaining himself with a stick like the day before, he finds tiny insects to chase. It reminds you of the first day you met Grogu and it warms your heart.

Midday eventually rolls around and you take Grogu back to the ship. You don’t want to forgo lunch as you did yesterday. You retake your seat on the cloak, enjoying a light lunch of fruit and bread. When you finish, you lean back on your hands with your face towards the sun. Grogu mimics you, closing his large eyes. You stay there basking in the warm light with the little creature until you hear the sound of boots on the hatch plank. Cracking an eye open, you look towards the Crest and find yourself at a total loss for words at what you see.

Din is standing there, completely devoid of his beskar. Well, not completely, his helmet is still firmly planted atop his shoulders. Beyond the ever-present helmet though, there isn’t another scrap of metal on him. It almost looks like he forgot the final step of dressing himself. To call it distracting is an understatement.

There are days where you nearly forget that underneath all the armor he’s just a man. A broad, terrifying, warrior of a man, but a man all the same. Without the beskar he seems more real, more tangible. He isn’t just some impenetrable suit of armor this way, he’s  _ soft _ and  _ exposed.  _ You’ve patched him up a number of times at this point and yet you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable before.

You’re pleased to note that it’s not just his armor that makes him look so large. Even without his pauldrons and chestplate he still looks broad. You’re warranted an unobscured view of the way his muscles flex and move beneath the cloth. It makes sense to you now how he’s able to move so silently with his flashy second skin. All of his movements are fluid and natural — as though he’s never uncertain about what his next move will be. Watching the way his body moves is intoxicating. You hardly even realize that you’re staring until the t-visor of his helmet turns to face you.

You look away quickly despite your obvious stare and clear your throat. You hope you can play it off as simple shock and not the gawking it had been. You close your eyes again and tilt your head back to the sky. Din’s footsteps are approaching, but you decide to ignore him. You won’t say anything until he does.

You feel his foot nudge your own. “Up, come with me,” he says.

You relent and open your eyes. After yesterday’s surprise you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. Whatever he has planned you hope it involves more blaster practice. You get to your feet and try your hardest to pretend that him being devoid of armor is having no effect on you. 

“Trying out a new look, Mando?” you tease.

“Beskar seemed like a bad idea for what I have planned for you today.”

“Wh-what?” You can’t prevent your stutter even if you wanted to. 

He doesn’t even try to hide his laugh. “You’ll see, come on.”

You follow behind as he leads you to another section of the field. He stops seemingly without reason and you nearly run into him. You stop at the last second, hand bumping against his back. His body tenses from the sudden contact and you quickly move your hand away. You look to the ground and scuff your shoe in the dirt. It wasn’t really your fault that you ran into him, he was the one who stopped walking without warning. Apparently, your accidental touch doesn’t matter though as he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Are you ready, sweet girl?” Din asks.

He isn’t making any sense. You are just standing in a random part of the field. There’s nothing around you, just grass and dirt. “Ready for what?”

Din squares up in front of you and taps his chest. “Hit me.”

You don’t move. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually being serious right now. He actually wants you to punch him? Why?

Din taps his chest again while saying your name. “Hit me.”

He must be serious then. You move slowly, just in case he wasn’t, and square up to him. You pull back your dominant hand and punch him as hard as you can, right in his chest. He doesn’t even move and now your hand  _ hurts.  _ You glance up at him, just to make sure he hasn’t hidden the beskar under his clothes.

“Is that it?” he says, voice calm and even.

“What the kriff is that supposed to mean?” you ask bitterly.

“It means you’re going to have to try harder.”

You set your jaw and square up again. You throw another punch with the same results. _ How in the galaxy could his chest be that hard _ , you wonder, shaking the pain from your hand.

Din walks over to you and takes your hand in his gloved ones. Your breath hitches at the unexpected touch. “Your fist is too loose,” he tells you. Carefully, he repositions your fist, bringing your thumb in tight over your fingers. “Now, try again.”

You steel yourself, keeping your hand how Din positioned it. You punch him again. He still doesn’t move, but this one at least forces a grunt of air out of his lungs. 

“Better.”

Mando forces you to keep punching him. It seems like it doesn’t even affect him and it pisses you off. Were you really this weak? Sure he’s a Mandalorian, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain. You wish the helmet would come off so you could at least see if you were making him grimace. It would be better than the absolute nothing in feedback you’re getting now.

After some time he must decide that your punches are good enough, because he starts to spar with you. He throws out simple punches here and there, forcing you to block and watching what you do to fight back. None of your punches are landing anymore but his are. You know he’s holding back, only hitting you with a fraction of his strength, but they still hurt. As he slowly tears you down physically, he critiques you verbally, telling you when you’re too slow, too obvious, and too open. He takes advantage of these flaws, attacking you until you fall backwards, tripping over your own feet.

Your chest heaves as you look up at him. He barely glances at your miserable shape and shouts at you. “Get up.”

“Maker, give me a second,” you spit at him. He’s pushing you to your limits and he expects you to just get right back up?

“K’atini! I don’t even know how you made it off Rishi with your sad excuse for fighting skills,” he throws back.

You don’t recognize the first word he said, but you don’t like the tone in which he said it, and the reminder of your fight on Rishi just feels like a low blow. He’s not the kind, patient teacher you had while shooting yesterday. With hand-to-hand combat Mando is aggravated and testy and you aren’t even sure why because you haven’t landed a punch in what seems like forever.

You force yourself back up to your feet and face him again. This time as you fight, Mando stops his constant critique. Instead, he just aims for your weak spots, taking advantage of all the ways in which you leave yourself open.

“Cut it out!” you scream at him.

Mando yells something at you that you don’t understand again, “Nar dralshy’a!” You don’t think he even notices that he isn’t speaking Basic.

You continue your attempts to just land one punch, anything, to no avail. It’s maddening. You’re trying your hardest, your absolute best, and it’s useless against him. You can hardly even figure out what you’re doing wrong as you try to prevent his punches from landing. He isn’t going easy on you anymore. You know his punches still aren’t as hard as they could be, but they’re faster now, more complex, and barely giving you time to react to one before the other is flying at you. Somehow, fighting with you has pissed him off when it was his idea in the first place.

The final straw comes when his leg suddenly sweeps yours out from underneath you. You fall back hard into the dirt, the force of it pushing the air from your lungs. You barely have your breath back before he’s yelling at you again. 

“Get up.”

You groan, not yet able to form words with your limited air. He shakes his head at you. “K’atini!”

There he goes, shouting things at you that you don’t understand again. Finally, you’ve had enough. You push yourself up from the ground and start to march in the direction of the Razor Crest, away from Mando.

“We’re not done,” he says, a clear threat in his words. You don’t look back at him and keep marching. You feel his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. 

“I said, we aren’t done.” You spin around to face him and he drops your wrist. At least he isn’t willing to give you a totally unfair fight.

“Fuck off, Mando!  _ I’m  _ done, alright? I’m tired and my body hurts and I am  _ done, _ ” you shout.

He moves quickly to block your path, causing you to pause, and for a moment you don’t say anything to each other. You just stare angrily into his helmet, where you assume behind it he’s staring right back. You go to push past him, shoving his arm out of your way. He doesn’t relent, quickly stepping in front of you again. It’s enough to finally make you see red. He’s spent the better part of a day beating you down, making you feel small in every possible way, and now he won’t even allow you the decency of storming away.

You can feel the rage in every fiber of your being. Blood pounds in your ears and all of your muscles tense. The feeling takes hold in your chest, a dark angry pit. In a final, desperate effort, you place both of your hands on his chest and shove him away with a strangled cry. You don't actually expect anything to happen when you do it.

To your absolute disbelief, Mando goes flying backwards, landing a full four meters away from you. His body makes a sickening thud as he lands. You look down at your hands and back to his prone form. Did you do that?

“Mando? Dank farrik, Din, are you okay?” You ask, rushing over to him. You kneel beside Din, hands hovering over his body, not sure if you should touch him.

He groans loudly, sitting up from where you threw him. If an expressionless helmet could have a stern look, that would be it. “What the farrick was that?”

You look back down at your hands, flexing your fingers slowly. The rage you felt just a minute before is gone entirely. "I- I don't know."

***

Mando likes to keep himself busy when he’s upset. You learned that after a particularly difficult hunt a few months back when he returned to the ship, shoved the quarry into carbonite and spent the next two days not talking and only doing maintenance on his ship and weapons. He didn’t let you touch the wound on his leg until you yelled at him about the possibility of infection.

Now it seemed as though keeping himself busy meant collecting firewood out of the forest. After recovering from your miraculous shove Mando had stalked off into the forest without a word and returned ten minutes later with an armful of lumber. He was back in there now, gathering more for the apparent bonfire he was going to build. You weren’t sure if he initially planned on building a fire that night or only decided to when he needed to give his hands something to do.

You sit on a crate and watch while he works. You aren’t sure of what to think. He had flown so far away from you. That wasn’t natural. That shouldn’t be something you’re capable of at all. You aren’t even sure if Mando can throw someone with that kind of force. It had been so sudden and so powerful, and definitely not something you planned on happening. You search for any kind of explanation and come up short.

You stay seated on the crate, enveloped in your thoughts, while Mando finishes his fire. Dusk has taken hold of the planet now and his fire shines brightly in the dimming light of day. Mando pulls a crate over and sits on the ground with his back against it. His legs stretch out before him and he crosses his arms over his chest. Absently, you think of how much more natural it looks than when he tries for the same position with the beskar on.

Dusk officially passes when you get up the nerve to join him. You grab your cloak from the ground and throw it on before hauling the crate you were using as a seat over towards him. Grogu is already asleep in the Crest, having gone to bed when your fight with Mando came to an unceremonious end. All of this freedom really wore the little guy out.

You sit down beside him and you’re both quiet for a while. The tension is palpable in the air, but neither of you are sure of how to break it. Shockingly, after twenty minutes of silence, Mando is the one to speak first.

“I’m sorry.”

You look over at him. He’s still staring into his fire. “For what? I should be the one apologizing,” you say.

“No, I- I pushed too far. I got caught up in it and I didn’t even realize. I was supposed to be training you, not beating you up.”

You wished that he would turn and look at you. “I’m fine, Din. A little sore maybe, but I’m fine, I promise.” You want to reassure him. It’s true that he went too hard, but you weren’t hurt. Your pride was, but your body would be just fine. He hadn’t thrown you across a field. Speaking of, that was something you should probably be apologizing to him for.

“I’m sorry too,” you say.

Din finally looks at you. “You don’t need to be. I took it too far.”

Well, this is frustrating. You tossed the man across a field and he wasn’t even upset with you about it. How were you supposed to apologize?

“How did you do it?” he asks.

You consider it all again. It had happened so fast and part of you still didn’t want to believe that it was real. You decide to just go with the honest truth. “I really don’t know. I was just so  _ angry _ and I wanted you to stop, to get away from me, so I pushed you and then-” You drift off, the implication of the end of your sentence clear.

Silence fills the space between you once again, but this time it isn’t uncomfortable. Both of you are simply at a loss for words, unsure of what to say next. After all, what do you say about doing something that shouldn’t have been possible?

Din breaks the silence again. “I think you’re like the kid.”

His statement takes you by complete surprise. You’re like Grogu? That’s, no, there’s just no way. Grogu is something special, something unique in the galaxy. You can’t possibly be like him. 

“No, there’s no way,” you manage to stutter.

“The Jedi I met told me about how Grogu’s powers work. It has something to do with something called the Force. She said it’s an energy field that’s created by all living things and that Grogu had training in order to learn how to wield it.” Din has never spoken to you about this before. All you knew was that Grogu had powers and needed to be returned to his kind. You never considered that Din might know a bit more than he let on.

“That settles it then,” you say. “I can’t be like the kid. He’s had some kind of training and can only float a ball. I couldn’t have possibly thrown you like that without training.”

Din shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe the Force works in ways we don’t understand. Maybe somehow, your anger allowed you to do that. Have you ever felt anything similar to that before?”

You consider the question while Din prods the fire. You know you’ve never felt a rage like that before, not one so pure and focused. However, you have felt other odd sensations before. Ones that pushed you into the path of the Mandalorian, warned you of danger, and calmed you while shooting. They weren’t all the same and they weren’t like your anger from today, but somehow you know that they’re all connected. There’s just something indescribable about them all that feels so similar.

You’re nervous, but you share your thoughts with Din. He takes it all in without complaint, asking questions here and there, but never once casts doubt or judgement. He’s so calm about it all that it makes you wonder how this can possibly be the same hot-headed fighter you dealt with earlier. 

Neither of you are quite sure what to make of this revelation. It’s more than you ever expected and clearly Din shares your surprise. You were just some random drifter that was good with her hands, you weren’t supposed to be special. You both agree that if you get any more of these feelings you’ll share them with him. Din might not be able to help you out much with this, but it won’t hurt to try.

As you continue to sit around the fire with him, a new thought pops into your head. Those words that he spoke to you earlier, the ones you didn’t understand, what did they mean? It didn’t sound like any language you knew of and it seemed uncharacteristic of him to slip out of Basic when talking with you. The revelation about your apparent connection to the “Force,” or whatever the Jedi had called it feels raw, and you hope that you can convince Din to share something with you in return.

“Can I ask you something?”

Din glances over at you. “Sure.”

You keep your voice gentle as you speak, as though Din is a blurg that you’re trying not to scare. “Earlier, while we were fighting, you said some words and I didn’t understand them. What language was that?”

Once you finish asking you realize that it might be Din’s native tongue. You flush with embarrassment for having asked, feeling like there’s a chance you’ve overstepped somehow. You knew he was human, that much was obvious from all the medical work you’ve done on him, but Din is still an intensely private, secretive person. Asking him a question like that, it might be too much. Before he can respond, you quickly add on, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I was just- I- I’m just curious.”

Din takes another moment to respond and you're sure he's going to tell you to forget about it. "It's Mando'a," he finally says.

You don't say anything, you just give him a quizzical look. "The language of the Mandalorians," he clarifies.

You find yourself slightly dumbfounded. Of all that you'd heard of Mandalorians you had never heard of their language. You didn't know it existed and here you were, sitting with a living, breathing Mandalorian who only spoke it while fighting with you.

"What uh, what did the words mean?" you ask softly. You're terrified of overstepping, but you're too interested to not ask.

Din gives the fire another poke. "They um, they weren't exactly kind," he tells you.

"That's okay," you reply and you mean it. You don't care if he had been calling you a dirty mudscuffer in Mando'a, you just want to know.

He clears his throat. "K’atini means… it means something along the lines of 'suck it up' or I guess more literally, 'it's only pain'. I heard that one a lot while I trained as a Foundling."

You could feel your heart skip as he mentioned something of his past. It was a scrap of information, but you hang onto it like he just revealed the secrets of the galaxy to you.

"Nar dralshy’a essentially means 'try harder'. It uh, it was meant to be encouraging."

You almost laugh. Only Din would yell something at you that you have no understanding of in an attempt to encourage you. Hearing him speak the words in a normal tone, you recognize something familiar in their sounds. 

"The name you call Grogu, Ad- Aid-"

"Ad'ika," Din offers.

"-Ad'ika. That's Mando'a too, isn't it? What does it mean?" 

"Little one. It's used to refer to your children."

You can’t help but smile. This whole time you thought it was just some nickname he had for the kid. You had no idea that it was Din claiming Grogu as his son every time he said it.

There's another Mando'a word scratching at the back of your mind. It's fuzzy, something Din said to you on Rishi, but you can't quite remember it now. You think about asking, but you figure he won't be able to recall it now and leave it.

"It's a beautiful language," you tell him, "I um, I don't know if it's allowed, but if you ever wanted to teach me more of it then I'd love to learn. It seems a shame you don't get to use it more often."

Din turns to face you completely, caught off guard by your compliment and request. "I'd love to, sweet girl."

A warmth fills your chest. It's not like one of those "Force" feelings, but it's strong just the same. Emboldened, you do what you've denied yourself twice already this week. Shifting to your knees, you move towards Din and hug him. He stiffens for a moment in your embrace, caught off guard by the affection. After what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few seconds, he relaxes and wraps his arms around your waist.

His arms are thick and strong around you, pressing you tight against his chest. His unyielding helmet is a bit awkward, but after a moment he loosens his grip and adjusts, touching the forehead of his helmet to yours, like the world's gentlest headbutt. It's comfortable there, but you don't dare look up into the t-visor, afraid that somehow you'll give something away by doing so. You hope he can't feel how fast your heart is beating from being this close to him.

You stay there for just a bit longer, too distracted by him to think of moving yet. You're grateful that the beskar never went back on. Although you spent a large portion of your day in close proximity fighting one another it’s nothing compared to this. He’s warm and soft underneath your hands, his heartbeat steady and smooth. Listening closely you swear that you can hear him, his actual breaths, unmodulated, coming from under the helmet. 

Not for the first time since you’ve come on board the Razor Crest, you wonder what he looks like underneath. Human, male, and the warm tan of his skin are all you know for certain. Otherwise you have nothing. No details, no indication of what could be. You think his hair might be brown. It’s the most common color for humans and would compliment his skin. Brown eyes would match as well, but then he might surprise you and have bright blue eyes instead. That sounds like Din, full of surprises. The rest of his face seems beyond speculation. It’s all too unknowable, any option too likely. You want to know but you don’t inquire. You respect his Creed far too much to ask.

The moment passes and you reluctantly pull yourself out of his arms. You wish you could stay there all night, wrapped up tightly with him. It was impulsive though and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made Din feel uncomfortable and he’s being too nice to say anything. You move from your kneeling position and stand. It’s late and the fire is almost out. Din hasn’t told you when he plans on leaving tomorrow but you want another good rest before you take off. As you stand his hands fall from you and you wonder if you only imagined his hand lingering on you for a moment too long.

You brush the dirt from your knees and smile at him. “Goodnight, Din.”

"Jate ca, sweet girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Ad'ika = little one, son  
> K’atini! = Suck it up! or It’s only pain!  
> Nar dralshy’a = Put your back into it! Try harder!  
> Jate ca = good night (this one is a very literal translation, Jate = good / ca = night)


	4. Off Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember kids, communication is key.

Alarms are blaring throughout the Razor Crest. Lights flash everywhere as Din frantically flips switches and presses buttons on the console. He’s muttering something under his breath, but it’s too loud inside the cockpit to hear what it is. Another hit rocks the left side of the Crest, forcing Din into a tight barrel roll before he can right the ship again. You’re thankful to be strapped into one of the co-pilot seats.

“Almost there,” you hear Din shout as he narrowly squeezes between two asteroids.

The asteroid field that you’re currently navigating through was unmarked on any map Din had access to. Its existence came to both yours and Din’s attention too late and there was no option other than to try and make your way through it. To put it lightly, it was not ideal.

The Crest is shaking with the effort it’s taking to get through the field in one piece. You're forced to assume that the damages are extensive. The only hope is that Din’s skills as a pilot are good enough to get through without losing anything crucial to the ship’s operations. With one final hard turn to the right, the Razor Crest breaks free of the deadly field. 

“We’re out,” Din announces. You unbuckle yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of your seat. You know Din has the cockpit under control, so you slide down the ladder into the main hull. Frantically, you turn off the blaring alarms and check for damage. Your assumption is unfortunately confirmed — the Crest is in terrible shape. She's far beyond your skills as a mechanic, despite how far they've developed in the past months. You’re happy to see that the main functions are still online though, if badly damaged. 

Relieved, you take a moment to collect yourself before climbing back into the cockpit. You had been asleep when the Razor Crest breached the asteroid field. The first hit to the ship had forced you awake and Din was already in the cockpit struggling to keep the damage to a minimum when you got up there. There was nothing you could do other than strap in and hope for the best.

Now that it’s over, you can finally take a moment to process your thoughts. A simple loop of _we’re alive, we’re alive,_ keeps replaying alongside your determination that you never want to travel through an asteroid field again.

You climb back up into the cockpit and retake your seat. Din is still punching at things on the console, so you look over to the other co-pilot chair and check on Grogu. He blinks back at you and smiles. Somehow he’s never shaken up by events like these. You imagine he must think they're some sort of fun game and not the life-threatening scenarios they all are. It must become normal at some point with a bounty hunter for a dad.

Din finally stops attacking the console and throws himself back into his chair. His hand comes up to his helmet as though he’s rubbing his forehead. “How’s it look?” he asks.

“She’s beat up badly, but she can still fly at least,” you tell him.

“Can you fix it?”

You’re not sure you heard him right. “What?” you ask.

“If I land the ship somewhere, can you fix it?”

It’s official. The asteroid hits knocked some screws loose inside that bucket of his. “Din, you’re joking, I can’t make these repairs. They’re far too extensive and we’re going to need replacement parts.”

Din doesn't say anything and instead irritably punches coordinates into the console. You can tell he isn't angry with you though, more so at the situation as a whole. He turns the ship sixty degrees to the right and launches it into hyperspace. You don’t know where you’re headed, but you’re sure he’ll tell you soon enough.

***

Peli is nothing like you expect. Din is not one to have many friends and the ones he does have are either involved in bounty hunting or have a similar demeanor to him. The small, wiry haired mechanic is neither of those things. She’s loud, brash, and clearly a big fan of droids if the handful you can see in the hangar are anything to go off of. Absolutely nothing like you expected when he told you he knew a good mechanic on Tatooine.

She’s already yelling something at Din when you step off the Crest, but her attention quickly turns to you.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, Mando? Didn’t take you for the type,” Peli says, giving you a once over. You can feel your cheeks burn. 

“No, she’s just a healer.” His words feel like knives against you.

You step past Mando and offer your hand out to Peli to shake. “And babysitter, and occasional mechanic. He forgot those.”

Just a healer. Is he serious? That’s all he thinks of you as? You feel foolish, having heard him brush you off so carelessly. You thought there had been a change between the two of you, ever since the hug beside the bonfire. There had been more fleeting touches, more shared looks that lasted just a bit too long, enough that at some point you stopped denying that they happened in the first place. You didn’t consider yourself his girlfriend, the label didn’t feel appropriate, but you were more than _just a healer_. Or so you thought.

Peli laughs at your introduction, breaking your train of thought. “Oh, I like her.” 

Her attention then turns to Grogu and she lifts him out of your arms. You cast a quick look over to Din and he gives a small nod. She’s… okay then. You don’t know how Din came to know and trust this tiny woman, but you decide you like her. Peli is a character, but she’s an enjoyable one and her affection for the kid is abundant. She feels like a crazy aunt that you only see once a cycle.

After spending a minute cooing over Grogu, she snaps her focus back to you and Din. “So? What did you do this time?” she asks.

“Asteroid field.” Din’s speech is almost a mumble, as though he's afraid that he's about to be scolded.

“Asteroid fields? Maker, I don’t even know why I’m surprised.” Peli leans back and shouts. “Pit droids! Let’s go! I want to know what the damage is.”

She nods her head at you and Din, walking towards the interior of the hangar with the clear implication for you to follow. You catch her drift and begin to follow her. Din’s long legs allow him to catch up to you quickly and his gloved hand brushes the back of yours as you walk. A couple hours ago a touch like that would have set you aflame, but now it makes your blood run cold. You ignore it, moving your hand away from his. 

Getting to the back of the hangar, you purposely sit across the table from Din. You don’t feel like dealing with any more accidental touches at the moment. Part of you feels childish for it, but your wounded pride is currently in the driver's seat. _Just a healer,_ what utter banthashit that was.

"Here you go." Peli places a glass of water in front of you and turns to Din. "I'd offer you some, but I know you won't drink it with your Creed and all that."

Din doesn't say anything and you thank her for the drink. You can feel the sweltering heat of the planet even in the shade. Sweat is already causing your clothes to stick to your skin. 

Grogu climbs out of Peli’s arms and sits on top of the table between you and Din. You wonder if he can feel the awkward energy radiating between the two of you. Peli seems oblivious to it, launching into a discussion with Din about current dealings on Tatooine. You tune them out. It’s not that the discussion bores you, normally you would listen with rapt attention to learn anything you can about the world you’ve landed on, but your thoughts are otherwise occupied. 

Why did he touch your hand just then? First he dismisses you, barely even acknowledging the sort of relationship that's built between you over the months, and then he moves for contact? Those aren't games you ever expected him to play. You aren't even asking for all that much, just a genuine acknowledgment of your role on the ship. _Just a healer,_ how dismissive. Even being called a crewmate would have been better than that.

A pit droid walking up distracts you from your sullen thoughts. He speaks to Peli and then immediately turns around, going back to the Razor Crest.

"Good news and bad news," Peli says. "Bad news for you, these repairs are going to take a few days. Good news, you can pay me to fix it."

"How is that good news?" Din asks.

"Good news for me." Peli stands and walks off, yelling directions at her droids, not giving Din a chance to argue. 

You're not sure what this means for you. Remarkably, in all of your time with Din you haven't been forcibly grounded anywhere. There were a handful of close calls, but you always managed to make something work to get the Crest back off the ground. This is unprecedented. The Razor Crest grounded and Din with no bounty to chase. What are you going to do?

Din gets up from the table and goes to follow Peli, presumably to talk about cost. You stay with Grogu at the table, distracted by the little guy and unwilling to follow his dad at the moment. You only catch snippets of their conversation from afar.

"-too much."

"Do you know what it costs to-"

"-pay extra credits."

After some more back and forth, Din returns to the small table. Grogu turns his attention from you to his father. He grabs hold of one of Din's fingers and shakes it around a bit, which if the kid's reaction is anything to go off of, is a fascinating thing to do.

"What's our plan?" you ask Din.

"What do you mean?" He keeps his focus on Grogu as he replies, wiggling his other fingers for the child.

"I mean we're stuck here for a few days with nothing on the agenda, so what are we going to do?"

"We can go sightsee." Din puts the idea out there so simply and honestly it takes you aback. Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, _sightseeing_? You thought he was going to say something about finding a bounty, not sound like he was some mudscuffer on vacation in Coruscant. Is there even anything to go sightsee on this dustbowl planet?

"Sorry, what?" you ask, confused by his response.

"There's a little town to the north, Mos Pelgo. We can go there." Din sounds serious. The idea of sightseeing isn't some elaborate joke from him, he actually wants to go.

Peli reappears and must have heard Din mention the northern city because she asks, “Why would you go back out there?”

“Told someone I hoped to cross paths with them again. I meant it," Din says.

Interesting. Din not only knows and trusts Peli on this backwater planet, but there's someone else here worth visiting too. You wonder who this mystery person is that Din knows and cares enough about to see again. Maybe some girl from his past? You've never considered that he could have previous romantic interests hidden around the galaxy. It would explain his rude and casual brush off of your relationship earlier if one is here on Tatooine. You try to ignore the pit in your stomach you feel forming while you consider the existence of some girl in Mos Pelgo, waiting for Din's return.

"You're in luck then, I fixed up a speeder bike while you were gone. Piece of junk like the other one you busted, but it should get you there," Peli offers.

Before Din can say anything, you cut in. "Just the one?"

"Yep, don't have enough scrap lying around to work on another."

“There isn’t another bike? Or a landspeeder?” This has to be some kind of cruel joke the galaxy is playing on you. Somehow, in all the piles of scrap Peli had lying around the hangar, she only has one speeder? And it's just a bike? Maker, your luck is terrible.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure you can’t scrounge up another?” you press further.

“Look girlie, I like you but not that much. The one bike is all I’ve got,” Peli says, throwing her hands into the air.

“It’s fine,” Din’s gruff voice breaks up the small debate. “The one bike is fine.”

Din stands up from the table. "Peli, can you look after the kid?"

Peli looks a little shocked to be asked but scrambles to say yes. She picks Grogu up and holds him on her hip, as though she suspects Din might change his mind and take Grogu back. From there, you and Din prepare to leave for Mos Pelgo. 

You aren't quite sure of what's waiting out there, so you grab a small variety of clothing and a few ration bars. You manage to find your goggles, which were long forgotten in the bottom of your bag, and you tie your hair back to keep it from getting tangled in the wind. You attach your holster to your thigh, the first time you've been able to wear it for real, and you're ready.

Din is already standing by the speeder bike when you’re done packing. It’s a bigger model that could probably support a sidecar, but there are none of those in sight either. The only option is to sit on the bike with Din. You steel yourself, pushing down your hurt feelings. There’s no point in lingering on them right now when you’re about to be in very close quarters with him. 

You give Grogu a couple pats goodbye and then shove your bag into one of the saddlebags already attached to the bike. 

“Get on,” Din says gently. You consider saying something snappy back before realizing you’re supposed to be ignoring your hurt feelings, not indulging them. 

You climb onto the bike, moving yourself forward to make it easier for Din. He turns and says something to Peli you don’t catch before getting onto the bike behind you. It’s tight, but you both fit. You’re hyper aware of his body around yours. The firm, cool beskar at your back, the way his legs bracket around yours, his arms caging you in as he reaches up to the handlebars. You barely have enough presence of mind to pull your goggles down before he takes off, launching the two of you into the vast expanse of the desert.

***

You wish you could be enjoying this more. This is the closest and longest you have ever been next to Din and yet you're stuck in a bad mood. While the speeder bike is capable of carrying two, that doesn’t mean it was built for comfort that way. Peli was right when she said it was junk too, the seat cushion barely offering a modicum of support. The situation is not helping you quench your annoyance with Din either, instead only enhancing it.

His position on the bike is so firm you can’t move or readjust at all. It was fine at first, making you feel a bit safer, protected by him on the dangerously fast bike. Now though, your body aches. Your muscles demand to move, one of your legs half asleep from the position it’s in. Only your hands are free to move but you can’t decide what to do with them, so you settle for relaxing them in your lap until that gets uncomfortable after a while. Logically you know this isn’t actually Din’s fault, but the irrational side of your brain is winning. You feel trapped, stuck in one place on the machine until Din determines that it’s time to stop. You aren’t even sure of a way to signal to him, to let him know that you need a quick pause to stretch.

You endure for a bit longer before deciding that you can’t continue. You don’t know how far away Mos Pelgo is and your body feels like it’s being turned into stone from inactivity. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, you need to stretch your legs. Requesting the stop, you decide to tap Din’s leg and try to look up at him. He gets your message because soon the speeder slows down and comes to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Din asks.

“I need to stretch. I haven’t moved in too long and I’m way too stiff,” you explain. 

Din gets off of the bike for you. You stretch your arms and back first before moving from the seat. Your spine pops and you can feel your muscles rejoice from the new movement. You swing your leg around and go to step off the bike, only to have your legs give out and nearly fall face first into the sand. It appears that your leg was more than half-asleep in its crunched position.

You’re saved by Din’s quick reflexes, catching your arm and holding you up before you fall completely. “You okay, sweet girl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your arm from his hold. You do your best to ignore the painful tingles in your leg as blood flow and feeling returns. You scan the landscape as you continue to stretch. It’s desolate, countless dunes of sand as far as the eye can see. Yet the planet is beautiful in its own way, a sterile kind that is unique with its twin suns shining brightly overhead.

After about five minutes of stretching and moving around, you turn back to Din. He’s leaning against the speeder with his arms casually folded over his chest. “Alright, I’m ready. Mind telling me how much farther we have?”

You climb back on and Din follows after you. “Another three hours or so. Think you can hold on that long?”

You glance up at him behind you. “It would be easier without your giant body blocking me in, but I think I’ll make it.”

Din lets out a distorted chuckle at your barb. He gives your legs a quick squeeze with his own. “You can move if you need to, you know, just don’t fall off.”

“How can I, with you in the way?”

Din laughs again and starts up the speeder. You pull your goggles back down and he takes off, launching you back over the sand dunes.

***

Nearly three and a half hours later, Din’s prediction a little off, you can see Mos Pelgo in the distance. The twin suns hang low in the sky, casting barely enough light to see by. The second half of the speeder ride hasn’t been as bad. It was shorter than the first half and the suns sinking had alleviated much of the heat. You felt a bit more comfortable moving when your body began to stiffen which helps to prevent more pain. At some point you even begin to relax — if you ignore how uncomfortable the seat is beneath you it isn’t so bad. Din’s chestplate acts as a nice backrest for you and you can tell he’s trying to position his legs to give yours more room.

Once you see the tiny settlement on the horizon though you feel your stomach drop. Your palms are getting sweaty and you know it has nothing to do with the planet’s heat. This town clearly doesn’t have much and you wonder why Din made his way out here before. Did he track a bounty all this way? And who could compel him to return? Whoever she was, she must be pretty to come out here for a visit.

Din slows the speeder bike as you roll into town and you see a few people wandering around Mos Pelgo, likely headed to the cantina. You expect them all to stare in wonder or fear like normal when Din comes into a town. Instead, you can hardly believe your eyes as they… wave? Are the people in this town actually waving at the big scary Mandalorian? Maker, what is this place? It’s unlike any experience you’ve ever had with Din at your side before.

Din stops the speeder outside of a cantina. He hops off and offers you a hand. You still feel anxious and a large part of you doesn’t want to take it, but you can’t trust your legs at the moment. His hand is firm in yours and you can’t help but feel a small amount of comfort at the touch.

You follow him into the cantina and wonder who you’re waiting for. You assume that’s what you’re doing there, despite Din not having explained anything to you. There’s something about the way his head turns when you walk in and how he keeps scanning the room once you sit down at a booth that tells you that’s what’s happening. You figure you’ll know once you see her. He might be hidden away under all that armor, but somehow the only the prettiest of girls found their way to Din. Maybe it was due to a sense of false confidence from years of never being told no by anyone else. Nerves getting the best of you, you begin to absentmindedly pick at your fingers.

“Well I’ll be,” comes a drawl from above you.

You’re surprised to look up and see a tall, lanky but not awkward, man standing in front of you and Din. He’s got a big sideways grin plastered on his face, which should look more ridiculous than it does. His silver hair looks as though it was nicely styled like his beard before the desert winds blew through it. His eyes are bright and you’re tempted to describe them as sparkling.

“Mando,” he says in a friendly greeting while sticking his hand out towards Din for a handshake.

“Marshal,” Din shakes the man’s hand. He turns to you and gestures to his acquaintance. “Meet Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Cobb turns his smile to you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel yourself melt a little. It’s been a long time since any man looked at you that way. “And just who might you be, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re somehow that little green kid he had with him before.”

That actually makes you laugh aloud. “No, I’m not.” You offer up your name along with your hand to shake. Cobb takes your hand and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. You have to admit, he’s smooth. Din gives a small cough from his side of the booth.

“Sorry there Mando, just couldn’t help myself,” Cobb says, winking at you. Oh, he’s _very_ smooth.

“Sure you couldn’t.”

Cobb sits beside you and hails the bartender over. He sets down three cups and an entire jug of spotchka. The Marshal must be well liked then, you think, if the bartender is so willing to part with a jug so easily. Cobb pours all three glasses, which strikes you as odd, considering that he should know Din doesn’t eat or drink with others. Din doesn’t say anything about it though, so you keep quiet as well.

“What brings you out this way?” Cobb asks as he passes the cups around.

“Had the time. Told you I hoped we’d cross paths again and I thought I’d make good on it.”

You nearly spit out your drink in surprise. Din couldn’t be serious. This was who he had been talking about? You had to admit, Cobb was pretty, just as you thought the mysterious person Din wanted to reconnect with would be. Definitely worth a trip through this dust bowl to go see.

For the second time today you feel foolish. Dank farrik, you need to get a hold of yourself. Of course Din didn’t want to come out here for some girl, when had he ever been sentimental over previous romantic connections? Now that you think about it clearly, you aren’t sure if Din has any past romantic entanglements. You don’t think he’s inexperienced by any means, he’s still human after all, but the reality of him having more than passing connections seems unrealistic. Certainly a conversation for later, or never. Probably never.

With the revelation of Cobb’s existence and Din’s probable lack of relationships fresh in mind, you feel embarrassed that you ever felt jealous in the first place. It isn’t like you have some claim to the Mandalorian anyway. Whatever is going on between you two is unclear, unnamed, and hardly even acted upon. Din clearly didn’t think much of it given his lovely explanation to Peli of who you were earlier. No, you have no right at all to feel this way. Better to just try and get over it now before it grows into something worse. Mind made up, you finish the rest of the spotchka in your glass in one go, ignoring the burn as it goes down.

Cobb lets out a low whistle. “Maker, Mando, you’ve got one heck of a girl here.”

“Not his girl, just a healer,” you throw back.

“Duly noted,” Cobb says, giving you a small nod. You don’t look over at Din. You don’t want to see his reaction.

After that the three of you fall into easy conversation. You discover the connection between Cobb and Din — _You mean you haven’t told her ‘bout me? I’m hurt Mando, real hurt_ — and you decide you can’t imagine Mandalorian armor on Cobb. There’s just something about him that doesn’t work quite right with your picture. He’s too casual, too comfortable with himself to ever need a second skin over top. He's also too skinny you decide, not nearly broad enough to fill out Mandalorian armor as it should be.

You don't even try to hide your fascination as Cobb regales you with the tale of the krayt dragon. "I thought he was a goner for sure, getting eaten like that. Just when I'm thinkin' the worst though out he comes, flying out of the beast's mouth like some sort of hero in a children's story."

You turn to Din, the spotchka in your system removing any embarrassment as you openly gape at him. "Is he telling the truth?" you ask. It's not that you don't trust Cobb, but the whole thing is so remarkable that it's hard to believe.

"He's making it sound like more than it was. I was covered in it's bile, I stunk for weeks after that."

You learn about Mos Pelgo, how Cobb came to be its Marshal, and how the town has been getting on since the dragon's death. The spotchka goes down easy, a welcome distraction from any unhappy thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. Cobb continues to flirt with you throughout the night, serving as another nice distraction. You know you shouldn't encourage it, but his open attraction and the alcohol make it difficult to resist. Sure, he was a bit skinny, a bit loud, and his skin wasn't as sun-kissed as you preferred, but he could do. 

As the night wears to a close, you can feel sleep begin to pull at the corners of your mind. The long day in the sun combined with the large amount of alcohol you consumed were working together to make your body shut down. You barely even register as Din asks Cobb where the two of you can stay for the night.

You pull yourself out of the booth, slapping your cheeks gently to try and clear up the fog in your mind. You wake up just enough to function like a normal person again. Din goes outside quickly and grabs the bags off of the speeder bike. Then you both follow Cobb as he leads you to the single spare room above the cantina.

"Sorry it ain't much, but as you know we don't get many visitors out here," Cobb says as he opens the door.

He's right. It isn't much. Just a tiny square room with a bed and a dresser with a 'fresher attached. You're happy to note that it all looks clean though, devoid of the layer of sand that seems to cover everything on Tatooine.

"It'll be just fine, thank you Marshal," you tell him. Cobb tips an imaginary hat and throws a wink at you. He gives Din a wink too, which makes you snort. He then walks away, throwing a goodnight over his shoulder.

You shake your head, amused, and follow Din into the room. You grab some clothes from your bag and go into the 'fresher, determined to get off at least some of the day's grime. You're disappointed with a sonic shower, although you weren't sure what else you expected, being on a desert planet. Still, it provides some relief and you change into some clean clothes to sleep in. You splash a small amount of water on your face from the sink, just enough to feel human again. 

"All yours," you announce as you walk back into the small room. 

Din doesn't say anything, but he goes into the 'fresher and closes the door just a bit too hard. Was he mad about something, you wonder? Although you've hit your second wind, the alcohol is still playing with your thoughts. You can't think of a reason he would be upset right now. Just moody from the long day then maybe.

He doesn't take long in there, certainly less time than your small drunk fumbles, and comes back out, still fully dressed. You push yourself up onto your elbows in the bed and look him over. "Take off the armor," you tell him.

"You're drunk,” he responds.

 _What does that have to do with anything,_ you think. “Yeah? And why does that matter?” you ask. Din doesn’t reply. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. “There’s no way you can be comfortable sleeping in all of that metal. So just take it off and get in the bed. I’m obviously not talking about the helmet.”

You stay staring at the ceiling. It’s a fairly comfortable position, head cushioned in the pillows, while you try to not make him uncomfortable. You aren’t really sure why this is such a big deal to him tonight, he’s taken off his beskar in front of you a handful of times now. Usually it was for more hand-to-hand combat training, but you’ve caught him a couple times armor free in the cockpit during a long flight in hyperspace. It never seemed to bother him then. 

Yet maybe something had changed between the two of you again without you noticing. You were ‘just a healer’ to him, maybe that meant some of his walls were coming back up? Desperately, you tried to ignore the stab of pain that thought caused you. You don’t want to lose Din to the cold, disaffected Mando you met so many months ago, especially not without knowing why. The thought is too much to bear.

You turn on your side, away from Din, offering him extra assurance that you weren’t just trying to perv on him as he removed his armor. You know he caught you staring the first time he took it off. Did that bother him? You hope it hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

Part of you knows you should be more nervous about sharing a bed with Din, particularly with this growing gulf between the two of you. This is _intimate_ in a way, isn’t it? Sharing a space to sleep like this? Yet, whether it’s the influence of the alcohol or the exhaustion, you can’t find it within yourself to be flustered over it. It’s practical anyway. You both need sleep and Mos Pelgo only had the one room and bed to offer. One of you sleeping on the floor would just be stupid. You try to convince yourself that if only Din would stop being ridiculous and get into the bed, things would be just fine again. That was it, everything would be just fine.

After what seems like an eternity, you hear metal pieces begin to clank down together on the dresser. A small smile works its way across your lips and you’re happy that for once it’s your face hidden away from his. He’s hesitant maybe, but not uncomfortable enough to keep the heavy armor on. Knowing that things were okay enough, your eyes shutter closed and a deep sleep carries you away.

\- - - 

Din is surprised to discover that you’re already asleep when he climbs into bed. You seemed so awake just a few minutes ago when he started taking off his armor. He’s still kicking himself for his reaction to that. Of course you meant for him to take it off to go to sleep, not... anything else. Why would you? You’ve been acting off ever since landing on Tatooine, you wouldn’t suddenly be asking him for _that,_ not now. Not that you would want anything like that with him anyway - Din feels like a monster for thinking that way about you.

Looking down at you, Din ruminates a bit more. Somehow between all of the bounties, long hours, injuries, and repairs you worked your way into his heart. Part of him doesn’t want to admit it still, that you have such a large effect on him, but it gets harder with every passing day. Touches and stares linger for longer and Din takes notice of your blush every time he calls you sweet girl. Until today.

Din hasn’t been able to figure out what has caused the change. Soon after landing in Tatooine you brushed him off, distancing yourself from him. He knew the speeder bike situation wasn’t ideal either, but usually you would have handled something like that with more tact, not the brash way you questioned Peli about another bike. You were tense for the longest time on the bike, not relaxing until the small break you took part way through the ride. Were you just upset to be stuck on Tatooine? Or had he done something?

He was leaning towards the idea that he had done something to upset you. _Just a healer_ , those words bounced around in his mind. He panicked when Peli asked who you were and those had been the first words out of his mouth. He hardly even considered the way they would sound. The way you repeated those words to Cobb, it felt like a slap to the face.

Speaking of Cobb, the man was making his blood boil. Din likes Cobb, killing a krayt dragon together has that effect, but he has few qualms about punching the Marshal in the face right about now. He stared at you so openly, flirted so shamelessly, and you _reciprocated._ Watching the two of you in that booth drove him wild with jealousy. 

Din wondered if that was the cause for your change. Did being stuck here, with no agenda as you put it earlier, make you realize that this was not the life you wanted? You didn’t want to be stuck, tied down to a man who couldn’t even show you his face, who couldn’t even admit what you were to him. Cobb was able to make his intentions towards you obvious from the first words he spoke. You deserved that, not the brief, vague moments of intimacy Din had to offer.

Din looks away from you, trying to close his heart off from you, deciding that it’s what's best. He makes himself comfortable, lying on his back, helmet cushioned in the pillow. He’s shocked when he feels you move, your unconscious self repositioning, turning over and wrapping an arm firmly around his waist, face tucked into his side. The touch makes him nervous, unsure of how to react to the foreign embrace. His resolve to give you up quickly crumbles. Din’s never had this. He’s thought of it before, but it was all theoretical. This is real and unlike anything he ever imagined.

Part of him feels perverted for enjoying it as much as he is and so quickly after realizing you deserved more than him. You’re asleep and you fell asleep facing the other direction — you had no control over this, no consent. Despite those protests, he can’t help but sink into your touch. He repositions his arm, wrapping it around you, which causes you to shift your head up onto his chest. His breathing stops for a minute, terrified that you’ll wake up and pull away, but you remain lost in blissful dreams. The feeling of your warm body pressed against his, hand fisting into his shirt, the gentle rise and fall of your back against his hand while you breathe, is almost more than he can handle.

Din lies there for a few minutes, trying to commit every sensation, every sound you make to memory. It’s overwhelming for the touch starved Mandalorian and yet he craves more. With the helmet on in this position, he can’t get the right angle to look down at you. A risky idea runs through his mind and once again he ignores his protesting thoughts, following the path your touch has sent him down. He calls your name twice, softly, just to test how deeply you’re sleeping. When you don’t do so much as twitch, he decides it’s safe enough. 

Carefully, Din removes his helmet with his hand that isn’t holding onto you. He doesn’t set it down, holding onto it in case he needs to quickly put it back on. Vision unobscured, he looks down at you wrapped around his body. Din finds himself dumbstruck looking at you. That moment secures your position in his mind as the most beautiful thing in the whole of the galaxy. You look so peaceful, any worries wiped clean from your face. Your mouth is slightly open and although Din knows that means you’ll probably drool on him, he can’t bring himself to care. Your hair is splayed out in a wild display and Din can’t help but think of the one time he was able to touch it before, back on Rishi with you half-conscious from a concussion.

Moving more cautiously than he ever has before, Din dips his head down and presses a gentle kiss against the top of your head. He whispers _cyar’ika_ to you and dares to kiss you again. With one final look and a shaky breath, Din slips his helmet back on. He knows he’ll never get to sleep otherwise, far too tempted to spend the rest of his night just staring at you.

***

When you wake up the next morning Din isn’t there. Sunlight pours through the window and you force yourself out of bed. You’re happy to note that the light doesn’t hurt your eyes, meaning if you’re hungover it’s mostly negligible. Groggy from sleep, you move slowly as you get yourself ready for the day. Mos Pelgo isn’t big and you know you’ll find Din sooner rather than later, wherever he went off to without you. 

Entering the cantina downstairs, you aren’t greeted by Din, but rather the Marshal. “There she is! Mando told us not to wake you, but I’ll be honest, I was startin’ to worry about you up there.”

“No need Marshal, just catching up on some needed sleep.” You walk up to the bar and happily take the food and drink the bartender offered. The simple sustenance should be enough to kill any possible hangover that lingered. The Marshal takes a stool next to you.

“Where’s Mando?” you ask. Din hadn’t told you of any plans he had while out here and you were a bit hurt that he apparently took off without you this morning.

“Went to talk with the Sandpeople. Why, I don’t know, I think he might just like their massiffs.”

You snort at Cobb’s comment, imagining Din returning with a massiff, a new addition for the Razor Crest. You’d look like a proper family then, you and Din with the kid and a pet. Realizing where your thoughts had led, you quickly shook yourself free of them. You can’t allow yourself to think that way. If Din’s behavior since landing on Tatooine was anything to go off of, he’d be kicking you off the Crest before thinking of you as a parent to Grogu.

Cobb glances at you sideways. “So what’s the deal with you and shiny?”

Your food pauses halfway to your mouth. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“I mean, whenever I so much as look at ya, I can feel him staring me down like he’s about to shoot me.”

You laugh at that. “Now I know you’re making things up, Vanth.”

Cobb throws his hands up in defeat. “I’m just calling it how I see it, and that Mandalorian keeps a close eye on you. Thought I might end up with blaster holes in me last night.”

You can’t let yourself get carried away with Cobb’s words. You know too well the path your mind will take and it’s all too painful right now. Din doesn’t want you — you don’t know why, but that’s your reality now. Getting swept away by some fantasy will do nothing to help that. Quickly, you come up with another reason Din might keep a close eye on you. “He’s probably just afraid I’ll do something stupid and get myself hurt.”

“Nah, that’s not it at all, darlin’.”

You finish your food and ask Cobb to show you around town. After coming in late last night all you’ve seen of the town is the cantina, and you’re curious to see more of this tiny but apparently growing settlement. His eyes light up at the prospect, the Marshal clearly proud of his town.

Mos Pelgo isn’t a large town by any means. You can see that it’s still working to pull itself out of the devastation caused by isolation and the krayt dragon. With one of those threats gone though, the town could truly start to take root. More permanent structures were going up and renovations were being done seemingly everywhere you looked. Vendors were setting up small shops, selling basic goods, nothing fancy just yet. A garage on the outskirts of the town caught your eye, and if you aren’t mistaken, it looks like the barebones for a spacecraft hangar is being constructed. You point over to it and ask, “Got big plans for the town, Marshal?”

You’ve never seen a truer expression of pride and optimism on someone’s face before. “Just started on that last month. It’s going to take a while, but having a hangar will give the town a big boost. Could even put us on the map.”

Cobb’s excitement is infectious and you find yourself smiling back at him. “I bet it will.”

Walking back into the heart of town you notice a girl, no older than 16, working on a landspeeder on the edge of the street. Cobb is talking to you, telling you something about the plans to expand the cantina, but his voice fades from you. You aren’t entirely sure why, but you know you need to go talk with this girl. It’s a similar feeling as the one you had when you first spotted Grogu in the streets so long ago. A Force feeling, as you’ve come to call them. Without even a word to Cobb, you wander away towards the girl.

“Excuse me?” you call out to her, approaching slowly.

Her eyes snap up to you from the wiring she’s working on, eyeing you carefully. “What do you want?”

Okay, she’s more abrasive than you expected, but that was fine. You’re used to abrasive. “I was wondering if you’d like a hand with that.”

She’s still eyeing you, but something else flickers across her face for a moment. The curious feeling that overtook you changes, becoming something you identify as more maternal. You don’t know anything about this girl, who she is or who her parents are, but you know you need to help her. 

“Okay,” she relents. “Can you hold this flashlight for me? I’ve been trying to hold it in my mouth but it’s difficult.”

You climb onto the landspeeder and take the flashlight for her. She directs you on where to shine it and you hold it steady. As she returns to her work, Cobb walks up. 

“There you are, darlin’! Took me a moment to realize you walked off. I see you met Shenna here.”

The girl, Shenna, looks up. “Marshal,” she greets and then gets back to work.

“She’s been trying to fix up this landspeeder for a couple months now, no luck yet. I told her there’s no use, this thing’s been shot for a few cycles, better off as scrap,” Cobb says.

Shenna stops her soldering again. “She’s almost there now. Got the engines to start last week, it’s just keeping them going that’s the problem.”

You look over the landspeeder, noting the obvious repairs that have been done to the machine. Cobb isn’t wrong, it’s certainly seen better days, but there’s something about it that seems special. It has that same quality that you’ve come to love about the Razor Crest. Well worn, well loved, and fighting to keep functioning. So long as Shenna didn’t give up, you were sure it would hum for her, just how the Crest hummed for Din.

“Let’s try to fix that problem then,” you say, surprising both Shenna and Cobb. You know you aren’t a master mechanic by any means, but your time around the Crest has taught you a thing or two. It sounds like Shenna has done most of the tricky work anyway, so the finishing touches shouldn’t be outside of your realm of knowledge. “Care to lend a hand, Marshal?” you ask Cobb.

He seems even more surprised that you’ve now enlisted him as well, but he shrugs and takes the flashlight from your hands. “Aw, what the hell, why not?”

Shenna directs you and Cobb on what to do, giving you both tasks that seem doable with your skills. For you, this means rerouting wires and cleaning connections and for Cobb it means holding the flashlight and grabbing you or Shenna the tools you need. Apparently the mechanical work was not within the Marshal’s wheelhouse. He doesn’t seem to mind though, telling jokes and stories to make you all laugh while you work.

Shenna warms up to you, the Marshal’s blessing apparently holding a lot of weight in her eyes. You learn about her plans for the landspeeder, that she wants to establish a trade line between here and Mos Eisley. “If we can get trade going, then Mos Pelgo will be on the map within a year.”

“And you’ll be able to make a killing off the profits,” Cobb adds in.

Shenna laughs. “Hey, someone has to do it and a girl’s gotta eat, Marshal.”

“You seem young to be starting up a business,” you say, curious why this teenager was so set on being the one to develop a trade route for the town.

Shenna stops ratcheting the screw in the panel she was putting back into place. “It just seems like there’s so much more out there, you know? But I love Mos Pelgo, I don’t want to leave this place behind. I figure by going into Mos Eisley I might be able to get the best of both worlds. News about the galaxy, but a place to come home to.”

Her words strike a cord within you. “I think I understand you, Shenna.”

You return to the work tenfold, more determined now than ever to help Shenna get her speeder in working condition. Your connection to her seems to make a little more sense to you now. She wanted to get out into the world, learn of places other than her tiny hometown, and this beat up machine was her ticket to that. It reminded you of yourself at her age, a longing for more. Luckily for Shenna, she felt she had a home to return to as well — she wouldn’t become a drifter as you had.

You feel as though you’ve been suckerpunched in the chest. Suddenly you realize just how much you might be losing if Din decides to let you go. You aren’t sure when it happened, but the Razor Crest was home to you now. It’s been close to a year aboard the ship and never once has the restlessness from your past sunk into your bones. You were always going somewhere new, gathering your news from around the galaxy, and the Crest and her occupants had become your place to come home to. The realization must have made itself apparent on your face, because Cobb places a gentle hand on your bicep and asks, “You alright, darlin’?”

His question shakes you from your thoughts and worry of impending doom. You plaster a fake smile on for good measure and reply, “Never been better.”

As you continue to work with Shenna, you can’t help but wonder where Din is. Surely he should have returned to town by now, massiffs or not. You hope that nothing bad has happened to him with his penchant for getting himself into dangerous situations. 

The twin suns begin to set and Shenna puts down her tools. “I’m gonna try it,” she announces.

You finish closing up the panel you’ve been working on and step back. “You think she’s ready?” you ask.

Shenna hops into the driver’s seat, snapping her goggles down over her eyes. “I know she’s ready.”

She reaches down and fires the landspeeder to life. The engines roar, backfiring just a little before stabilizing. Shenna whoops and then opens the throttle. The machine takes off, flying with ease down the street and out into the desert just outside of Mos Pelgo. Your heart soars as you see the landspeeder disappear up and over a dune, a clear sign that it’s holding up. Cobb is just as delighted as you are, clapping his hand around your shoulder and pulling you in for a sort of half side hug. “Well I’ll be.”

Shenna comes roaring back over the dune, bringing the landspeeder back to the two of you. She’s ecstatic and you feel that compelling feeling that had settled in your chest when you first saw her dissipate. You’re not quite sure why the Force felt it so important you help the girl, but you were happy for it. Once Shenna has the speeder parked, she scrambles out of it and throws her arms around you.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

You return her hug and then pull away. “There’s no need, your thanks is payment enough.”

Shenna gives Cobb a hug too, thanking him for his help as well. “Mos Pelgo is entering a new era, Marshal.”

“Yes it is. Now get yourself home and tell your folks.”

Shenna gives Cobb a mock salute and leaves, taking off towards home in her fully-functioning landspeeder. Cobb turns to you and smiles. “Dinner is on me, as a thanks from the people of Mos Pelgo.”

You blush a bit, feeling that you really didn’t deserve the praise. You had meant it when you said Shenna’s thanks was payment enough. Cobb was clearly bound and determined to repay you in some way though, so you wouldn’t insult him by denying his offer. Instead, you nod and head off down the street back towards the cantina. 

You spot Din waiting outside the cantina from down the street. You feel your heart lodge in your throat when you see him, the realization of how much you had to lose crashing back over you. Part of you wants to go back to just two days before, where things were unspoken but not uncomfortable, when you didn’t realize just how much the Mandalorian and his little green son meant to you. You hate this change between the two of you, the distance that won’t stop growing and you want everything to go back.

You aren’t sure what to think as you get closer to him. Without a face to base his emotions off of, you’ve gotten fairly good at reading his body language for clues, but he’s unreadable right now. The way he’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, shoulders tense, you could almost call it anger and yet that’s not quite right. Whatever it is, he’s wound up tightly, and you’re hoping the casualties (possibly literal) will be at a minimum once he goes off. 

Cobb, apparently, has not mastered the art of reading Din’s physical cues, because he greets him happily. “Mando! You been with the sandpeople all day?”

“No,” Din replies, not offering any information on where he had been, if not with the Tusken Raiders.

Cobb brushes off the somewhat rude reply easily. “Well I was just about to buy your girl here dinner, as a thank you. Care to join?”

Din’s head tilts at this, but he doesn’t ask what you’ve done to deserve the Marshal’s gratitude. “No, I already ate.”

“Well alright, but you’re more than welcome to sit with us.” Cobb walks into the cantina. You fight with yourself for a moment, staring at Din, wanting to say something, do something, but you can’t find the strength. Instead, you just awkwardly stand in front of him, not moving, before turning away and following the Marshal into the cantina. 

You take a seat at the bar beside Cobb, trying to keep up a happy facade. He didn’t deserve to deal with your problems, especially not after buying your meal. The food is difficult to get down, not because it’s bad, but because you feel like your stomach is doing cartwheels after seeing Din. It takes everything you have to keep your focus on Cobb, actually taking in and reacting to his words instead of letting them float away. You do a good job of it until Din passes by you, not saying anything, and walking up to your room.

You don’t even realize you stopped listening to Cobb until he taps your shoulder. “Darlin’?” he drawls. “You’re lovely company and all, but I’m thinkin’ you should go after your Mandalorian there.”

You know your face has turned a violent shade of red, but you can’t find the words to explain things to him. “I’m sorry,” you tell him and you’re not even quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine.” Cobb gives you another of his genuine smiles. “Now go on, get outta here.”

You give the Marshal a grateful smile and hop down from your barstool. Moving as quickly as you can without running, you follow after Din. Your thoughts are swirling, trying to figure out what to say to him first but entirely unsure of where to start. 

Part of you feels a bit ridiculous, letting your hurt feelings bring you to this point, but you didn’t know what to think. There’s no real inclination of where Din’s head is at, other than him downplaying your relationship, whatever that was, and his day-long avoidance of you. You’re terrified, but you can’t let it all slip away now, not when you’ve just realized how much it all means, how much _he_ means to you. You take a couple deep breaths before opening the door, anxious as to what will happen next. 

As it turns out, you don’t have to worry about what to say. The moment you’re in the room and the door is shut Din speaks, facing the dresser where he’s depositing his weapons. “Shouldn’t you be with your Marshal?” he grits out.

His question takes you aback. “ _What?_ ” you reply in total disbelief.

You hear his huff through the helmet. “I’m not stupid. I know when I’m not wanted. It’s pretty obvious there’s something between you and Cobb, so I won’t stand in the way.”

Blood rushes in your ears as Din stands there, his back still turned to you, rejecting you again. “What the _kriff_ are you talking about, Din?” you say, trying to keep your voice even.

He finally turns to you and you can feel his eyes boring into you from behind the helmet. “Do you think I’m blind? You were flirting with each other all last night." He throws the words out like they’re something dirty, something that disgusts him.

You scoff, unsure of how to reply. It was harmless, the Marshal was clearly a flirt and you had just been leaning into it. None of it had meant anything.

Din presses on. "You spent all day with him too, clearly you enjoy his company over mine."

That comment makes your blood begin to boil. "Are you being serious right now? I spent all day with him because _you_ ditched _me._ " You take a few steps towards him. "I woke up and you were gone. Was I just supposed to wait around all day for you to get back?"

Din falters for a moment, apparently registering that he never actually told you about his plan to visit the Tusken Raiders. He pushes past it. "I saw you both today, helping that girl with her speeder. You seemed _awfully close_ to me. Mos Pelgo agrees with you, maybe you should stay.”

Had he _spied_ on you today? There was no other way he could know about Shenna and her landspeeder. Which meant that he'd found you, watched you, and avoided you. And he was mad that you spent your day with Cobb? Your heart plummets and your temper flares. Your suspicions were all but confirmed, he wants you gone, but then he cares about how you spend your day? What does he want from you?

“Fuck you, Din Djarin." You can see his hackles rise at the use of his full name. "I'm _just a healer_ so why should anything I do matter to you anyway?"

He doesn't reply right away. His hands flex at his side. You can't see his expression under the beskar and yet to you Din is an open book. He's struggling, searching for the right words to say. Your anger makes you patient. You'd wait there all night if that's what it took for him to come up with an explanation. For once his struggle with words doesn't arise any sympathy within you, just a cool and bitter indifference.

He says your name before speaking. It sounds like a plea, but the rest of his words are still gruff. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You didn't mean it?" you bite back. "Oh, I'm sorry, I should have been reading your mind so I know what you mean when you dismiss me almost entirely. My mistake."

His voice softens. "No, it was mine. I shouldn't have said that. I just- I didn't know what else to tell her."

You scoff. "Dank farrik, Din, you weren't required to tell her anything. People expect silence from you, they take it as its own answer."

He doesn't say anything to that for a long, pregnant moment. You're about to yell at him that it doesn't mean he gets to be silent with you now when he speaks again, all of the venom gone from his voice.

"I said you were a healer because of the first day we met."

Your anger grinds to a halt. That was not what you expected. "What?" You resent that you sound a little breathless at his confession.

"That first day. You took me in and healed the blaster wound on my side."

"I just stopped the bleeding, I didn't heal anything,” you say, the faintest traces of anger lingering in your voice.

"You did, sweet girl. You keep doing it and I don't deserve any of it." Din is suddenly in your personal space, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. His fingers linger, drifting down along your neck. You wish you could ignore the way it makes you feel. You are supposed to be angry with him, not swooning over the touch of a gloved hand.

"I don't deserve to have you with me. You deserve more, someone like Cobb who can give you a life." You look up into the t-visor and wish that you could know for certain when you meet his eyes. Din's hand rests against your neck, thumb tracing your jawline.

"I don't want him, you idiot. I want _you_." You bring your hand up to his, holding it there against your skin.

“You do?” Din sounds so earnest, so genuine, that it nearly steals your breath away.

“Shenna, the girl with the landspeeder, said something today and it made me realize…” you trail off, nervous to finish your thought. Din’s other hand finds its way to your waist, grounding you with him.

“What did it make you realize?” The apprehension in Din’s voice is clear. For someone who hid himself away, he let his voice reveal so much. 

“I had been drifting for so long before I met you and the kid. A few months here, a few months there, no real place to call home. I joined you though and my restlessness stopped. I get to see new places, new worlds all the time with you, but the best part is having a place to finally call home.” You hear Din’s sharp intake of breath as you share your revelation. “So, no, I don’t want Cobb and I don’t want to stay here in Mos Pelgo. I want to be with you — you and the kid — if you’ll have me.”

“You’re sure?” Din asks you.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, pushing yourself into his arms. You don’t care that he’s still wearing the beskar armor. That the plates are hard and cold against your skin. You just need him close, you need him to know, to understand that the words you’re saying are all true. His arms wrap tightly around you, clinging onto you just as hard as you cling to him.

“Cyare,” he whispers.

You pull back from the embrace, just enough to look into his visor again. “What was that?” You knew it was Mando’a, but it was a new word to you. He’s never said it to you before.

“Cyare. That’s what I should have called you when Peli asked who you were.”

You’re about to ask what it means when Din moves his head down to yours, forehead to beskar forehead. “It means beloved, loved.”

You don’t know how to respond. His words fill you with such warmth, such relief, that you’re not sure anything you say will be enough. You press a hand against his chest, right above his heart, and repeat his words. “Cyare.”

You stay like that for a while. Not moving, caught in each other’s embrace. The past few days all start to feel like a bad dream that you were waking up from. Din hadn’t meant anything by calling you a healer and he didn’t want you to leave. He had simply stuck his foot in his mouth and then tried to push you away for some stupid, noble reason of giving you the life, the home, he thought you deserved. As though you hadn’t found it already, months ago when you first stepped on board the Razor Crest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned on this being longer, another chapter or two, but this feels like a natural place to end things <3 If you’ve enjoyed this work though, don’t worry, the story will continue in the second work of this series where things will get spicy ;) I hope you’ll check that out when it’s posted. Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Mando’a Translations:  
> Cyare = beloved, loved  
> Cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart  
> 


End file.
